Duskborn
by Naoi
Summary: Harry is captured by Death Eaters soon after entering his 6th year at Hogwarts. Rescued years later, he is taken back to an Order safe house to heal before being swept away to safety. Slash.
1. Prologue

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Note: **Twilight settings will not show up for a while. We have a long set-up for the HP scene, so just stick with us, k?

Also, guys, we are following the official timelines as closely as we can considering certain inherent flaws. Please keep in mind, we have an explanation for almost everything we do!

Check out the Duskborn community at _ .org_ for timelines, in-depth plot explanations, update schedules, links to fanart, and more!

**Summary:** Harry is captured by Death Eaters soon after entering his 6th year at Hogwarts. Rescued years later, he is taken back to an Order safe house to heal before being swept away to safety.

**Warnings (all explicit content will be 'fade to black' and extreme chapters will be marked): **Slash. Grey!Harry. Mentions of self-harm. Abuse/torture. Mentions of forced cannibalism. Disturbing Images. Mental torture. Sex/intercourse. Threesomes. Creature fic.

**Copyright: **Neither Naoi nor Caits own Harry Potter or Twilight. (We wish we did, but that might lead to a bit of mental scaring and some psychiatrist visits. Oh, and Bella would have died in Arizona.) We are not making any money from this.  
_Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling, etc.  
Twilight © Stephanie Meyer, etc._

_**Revised January 2013. **__(and oh my at the number of mistakes and formatting errors!)_

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

_July 25, 1996 ~ Number 4 Privet Drive_

Harry tripped as another shot of pain lanced through him. The pain had been getting worse over the past few days, and it was starting to interfere with his chores around the house. Petunia was already giving his strange looks. The last thing Harry wanted was for Vernon to get involved to help "motivate" him.

He quickly bent over and picked up the pail he had dropped. "Be sure you get the weeds in the back as well!" Petunia yelled at him.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry straightened up and scurried over to the back of the garden. Another, milder, streak of pain ran across his shoulders, but he steadfastly ignored it. Looking at the plants in the garden, he smiled slightly. It had taken him years to understand what had to be done for each plant, but once he did, they had thrived. The garden was one of the best on Privet Drive, and Harry was proud of himself, even if the Dursleys did take all of the credit for it.

He knelt down in the grass and allowed himself a quick sigh of pain before getting his tools out of the pail. Humming softly to himself, he began the tedious process of weeding the garden and ensuring that each plant had enough fertilizer and water to last until he came around again next week.

Harry whimpered as he lay in bed that night. The pain was always worse at night. A few nights ago, he had managed to sneak a handful of aspirin out of the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, just enough to last him a few nights. They didn't help much, but they at least let him sleep.

Grimacing, Harry rolled over on his thin mattress and pressed up against the wall. The cooler, solid touch of the plaster was a balm to his tense muscles. Another soft whimper, and then the pain pills took effect and Harry drifted into a fitful sleep.

* * *

_July 30, 1996 ~ Number 4 Privet Drive_

Harry moved lethargically through the kitchen making breakfast for the Dursleys. The pain came in almost constant waves now, and Harry didn't care whether Vernon noticed or not. 'He can't make it any worse than it already is.'

His aunt bustled into the kitchen to check his progress. "What is wrong with you boy? Can't you even make scrambled eggs correctly?" She pursed her lips in disdain when he didn't respond. "Boy!" She grabbed his shoulder roughly to get his attention.

Harry watched as the pan he was holding was jerked off the stove and fell to the floor spilling the runny eggs across the tiles. 'It's like blood…yellow blood.' He giggled slightly at the morbid thought. 'Do chickens have yellow blood? No,' he frowned, 'I've had to cook them before, it's red.' His aunt was screaming at him, but Harry could barely hear her over his own thoughts.

Petunia watched as her nephew stared blankly at the eggs on the floor. "Vernon! Get in here! The boy's acting strange!" She saw his lips moving and backed away slightly.

Immediately her husband came lumbering into the kitchen to see what was wrong. He was missing the news because of this. "BOY! What have you done now!" He neck was already starting to turn purple. He glared at Harry who had slowly raised his head to stare at him. Vernon was infuriated by the blank stare and slapped the boy across the face.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts as he felt the sting across his face. He saw his uncle standing in front of him with a scowl in his face and it didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. 'Shit.' "I'm sorry Uncle Vernon! I won't do it again!" He cursed himself as he felt his eyes start to sting. 'Don't you dare start crying Harry. Don't you dare.'

His uncle's face turned a deeper violet. "Damn straight you won't, boy!" He grabbed Harry's arm tightly and began to drag him across the kitchen. "You're going to your room!" He jerked Harry's arm forward when they reached the stairs.

Harry stumbled as he attempted to keep up with his uncle. 'Thank God it's not the cupboard.' As soon as they reached the top landing, his uncle slammed him against the wall. "You can just stay in there for a few weeks to think about what you have done." Harry was roughly propelled into his room. He hit his back against the wardrobe he had salvaged and collapsed to his knees coughing.

From the other side of the door he could hear his uncle pulling out his keys and locking it. His throat closed in on him, and the sting behind his eyes lessened as the tears began to pour out. He hiccupped in an attempt to keep from crying out. Stifling his sobs in his knees, he began to try and take stock of all his new injuries.

From the way his shoulder was hurting, his uncle had most likely pulled his left arm too hard and strained the muscles there. His arm itself would likely have a large hand-shaped bruise on it by night, along with his cheek from where he had been slapped. His back hurt from being slammed into the wall and the wardrobe. He gently moved his hand down his legs to make sure they were okay from being dragged on the stairs. They hurt, but nothing seemed broken thankfully.

'And then there's this goddamn fucking pain! Where is it coming from?' His tears spilled out quicker in frustration. The waves of pain hadn't stopped, even when he was slammed against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling of his room in defeat. 'I only have two aspirin left.' He laughed to himself bitterly. 'Two aspirin and fourteen hours before it gets dark.' He would endure it though, because what other choice did he have?

He was hot again. Five minutes ago, he was cold. Sometime around nine in the morning, he had blacked out after getting to his bed. It was now 4:15 P.M. For the past few hours, he had been having these hot and cold flashes and the pain had now turned into a heavy pressure. He felt tired and worn out.

A couple times during the day, when the pain and heaviness pressing against him receded to the edge of his mind, he was overwhelmed by sadness. It was during these times he contemplated killing himself. Sirius and Cedric had already died for him. When would he be allowed to die and join them again?

At one point, he had thrown Hedwig's cage across the room in frustration. He had quickly rushed over to apologize to her afterwards, but she hadn't been there.

He looked over at the clock. 5:00 P.M. 'Hedwig will be back from hunting soon. I need to open the window.' He carefully levered himself up and over to his desk to open the window. It was stuck because of the rust that had built up on the latch, but Harry just managed to get it open. From there, he simply slumped down onto the ground where he was in exhaustion.

His glasses were sideways, offering him a blurry version of the world in his left, and a too-clear one in his right. He was cold again, and he shivered slightly from the draft brought in through the window. The breeze was warm but it didn't help. He felt himself slide further down the wall.

A mismatched thumping came from the stairs outside his door; it had to be either his uncle or his cousin. His aunt didn't make the house shake like that. A flat tray was shoved roughly through the cat flap in the bottom of the door. His right eye made out a bowl of something, a piece of bread, and some water in one of the old glasses they kept in the back of the cabinets.

'Petunia must have gotten a stool out to be able to reach that far back.' His stomach gurgled, but the thought of food made him feel sick. He leaned forward so he could look at the clock on the bedside table. His glasses fell back on his nose closer to the way they were supposed to lay with the movement, and he was able to read the numbers. 7:53 P.M. He fell back against the wall with enough of a thump that made him finally continue his slide down the wall. Gravity pulled him sideways, and ended up staring at the brown fibers of his carpet. His glasses dug into the side of his head so he turned his head upwards and curled into a ball.

He felt tears start down his eyes again as the pressure in his chest got worse. His bones felt like they were about to break.

He was hot again.

Harry came back awake with a start. His head felt light, as did the rest of him. It only took him a moment to realize that the pain was gone. He lunged upwards, ignoring the swimming feeling in his head and the pain in his shoulder from the way he had laid on it. His heart began pounding in his chest. He clutched the front of his oversized shirt. He still had the two aspirin hidden under his bed.

He didn't know when, but he knew the pain would be back. The thought of living without it was so remote as to be not possible anymore. He reached under the bed and pulled out the plastic bag the pills were hidden in. He opened it and dumped both into his mouth, mustering up enough saliva to get them down without choking despite the thick feeling they left in his throat. He leaned heavily on the bed, one hand still on his chest.

'Breathe. Breathe, Harry.' He took a few deep breaths and fell onto his bed. He had the urge to laugh, but he knew if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He glanced at the clock. 11:58 P.M.

'Almost midnight.' He rolled onto his back. 'It'll be my birthday tomorrow. I wonder if Ron and Hermione will send me any presents.' He let his eyes go out of focus and trace random patterns in his ceiling, allowing himself the second to get lost in his own thoughts.

He gasped when a familiar flutter returned to his chest. 'I was right. I was right. Why am I always fucking right?'

The pain was back – worse than ever. He felt more tears begin to form in his eyes, and he clutched the sheets in frustration. A chocked hiccupping started in his throat, clogging it and making him choke. Vaguely he heard Hedwig hoot warily from the corner. Relief flew across his mind. 'She made it ba-.'

Harry wasn't sure if the screaming he heard was real or only in his mind. As the pain and his voice swelled to impossible heights, he blacked out.

* * *

**A/N: **And thus ends the prologue. Whatever could be happening to dear Harry? :] Reviews are love!

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	2. Chapter One: Press F1 for Help

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: For the purposes of plot, please assume that Harry never went to Grimmauld Place over the summer. He stayed at the Dursleys for the entirety of break, and was only accompanied by a secret guard when he was driven by his uncle to the station.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised January 2013.**_

* * *

**Chapter One: Press F1 for Help**

* * *

_September 1, 1996 ~ Platform 9 ¾_

Harry looked up at the brick wall in front of him. 'It's… glowing.' The bricks looked like frosted glass to his eyes, and each brick was outlined in a soft yellow glow. Sighing at the image, Harry quickly checked the other platform walls. 'Nope, only 9 ¾.' He ran a hand through his already messy hair. 'Shit.' Ignoring his growing headache, he grabbed his cart in both hands and quickly pushed through to the other side where the scarlet train waited.

Ever since the black-out on his birthday, Harry had seen these glows around everything magical he had at Privet Drive. After reading some of the books Hermione bought him – for once – he figured that he most likely had something which fell under the heading 'Mage Sight.' The book had continued to explain various forms of Mage Sight like Grim Sight, Third Eyes, and a lot of stuff about graveyards, prophecies, and something about spiritual pressure. Harry gave up barely three chapters in trying to understand it all.

It all meant that he could see magical auras, tell spells apart by colour, and judge how strong a person was based on their magical glow. In actuality, Harry was able to tell how strong a magical item or person was based on how much his head hurt. He hadn't been able to check on the spell identifying thing yet, but he figured he would get more than enough of that at Hogwarts this year.

A week after he woke up, and five days after he passed out, Harry was finally let out of him room. It took another week and a half before he could convince Uncle Vernon to take him to Charing Cross to go to Diagon Alley. Harry had only been able to spend two hours there before his headache got too bad. Luckily, as soon as he was outside the Leaky Cauldron, he head had cleared up quickly.

Harry spent the rest of his free time in the record store next door to the Leaky Cauldron. He had always loved music, and they had some of the listening stations set up around the store, so Harry was quite happy. It also seemed to help with his headache.

..::...::...::..

Harry carefully pushed his cart through the crowd to the loading area of the train. He had some problems loading his trunk, but just when he thought he couldn't get it, a burst of coiled energy came from his stomach and he shoved the trunk into the bin. Stepping back, he looked at the perfectly placed trunk critically.

"You okay there Harry?"

Startling slightly at the semi-familiar voice, Harry turned and saw Hannah Abbot behind him. He smiled at the Hufflepuff. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just making sure my trunk got on safely." He smiled tiredly at her.

She looked over his shoulder to the luggage bins. "Yours is the one on the side, right? The reddish-brown one?" She glanced at him as he nodded. "It looks good. Really good, in fact. You might want to try out for Beater this year." She gave him a sidelong glance. "Maybe give one of our Seekers a chance at the Snitch?"

Harry laughed with her at this. "Nah, it was just a lucky shove. See you at the Feast."

"Yeah, you never know, maybe some other magical first year with show up with awesome seeking powers." She clasped her hands. "We can only hope." She winked at him before running off to where her father was calling her.

Harry waved at her retreating back. His headache had eased up a bit when he was only focused on her magic, but now that he wasn't focusing on something all of the magic from the terminal was entering his senses again. He groaned and turned to make his way back to the entrance to the train.

"So, Potter, still denying the inevitable?"

Harry turned at the snide voice. 'It can only be one person.' Uttering a small sigh, he turned to look at the pretentious blonde. "Yes, Malfoy?" He looked up into the steel grey eyes of his enemy. "May I help you with something? Because if not, I would appreciate being able to enter onto the train." Harry blinked.

Draco was… not glowing. He barely kept himself from cringing as his magic flailed out, trying to find Malfoy.

..::...::...::..

Draco bit his tongue. He had originally come over here to insult Potter, but the dark haired teen looked, off somehow. He had dark bags under his eyes, and was blinking rapidly at the blonde. His eyes narrowed as he felt something brush against his shielding. 'So Potter knows how to aura search? Well then…' His thoughts trailed off as he noticed a small flinch from the other. 'No…he doesn't. His magic is doing it on its own.' The numerous warnings his father had drilled into him over the dangers of aural magic flew through his head. 'Shit.'

"Hey, Potter, do you need some hel-"

"Harry!"

Draco snapped his mouth shut and looked over to where the weasel and mudblood were screaming. He glanced back at Potter. "Be careful with that magic of yours Potter."

..::...::...::..

Harry watched as Draco sneered at his friends before he walked away. For a minute, it had almost seemed like Draco was going to offer to help him. 'Couldn't be…' A strange feeling tightened the edges of his stomach at the thought.

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione rushed up beside him and smiled widely.

"The git didn't try and curse you or anything did he?" Ron was flushed and pointing after Malfoy.

Harry shook his head. "No, just came to talk big. Same as always." He shrugged. "So how was your summer, guys?" He tried to smile at them as they all moved back towards the seating compartments.

"Not very interesting." Hermione said. "I managed ten O.W.L.s," she sniffed.

Ron nudged Harry with his elbow. "She just upset that she only got an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He laughed. "I got seven myself, what about you Harry?"

Harry tried to remember the number of passing grades on the sheet of paper he had gotten at the beginning of August. "Umm…I think I got seven too." He shrugged and dodged what looked to be a first-year swinging an owl cage.

"Yes!" Ron held up his hand for a high-five. "Figuring we both failed Divination and History of Magic, huh? But who needs 'em?"

"Ron!" Hermione's shrill voice was immediately accompanied by one of her now infamous head thwacks.

Ron held his sore head and whispered conspiratorially to Harry. "Bit nutter, isn't she?" He quickly dodged another strike and ran up the stairs. "See you at the Feast then Harry."

Hermione sighed before turning back to Harry. "Be careful Harry." She gave him a quick hug before rushing after Ron towards the Prefects cabin.

Harry turned around, uttering a sigh of his own, and began the tedious search for an empty compartment. Most of the front ones were filled already, so he headed straight for the back, ignoring the stares of the other students. He managed to find one at the very back of the train and quickly slipped in and locked the door.

His headache was massive now, and the glowing colours were beginning to blend. He drew the curtains on the window and cast a quick locking charm they were supposed to have leaned in fifth year before laying down on one of the benches. 'Never knew reading the textbooks would come in handy.' He placed a hand over his eyes and breathed deeply. Slowly, his headache mellowed out to a bearable level and Harry fell asleep.

..::...::...::..

To Harry, stars seemed to be falling from the sky.

It was raining outside, and the magical ceiling had matched the outside and was currently raining over the feast. Of course, it was a magical ceiling, so the rain was magical as well. In Harry's eyes, every raindrop was coated in the swirling magic of Hogwarts itself. He blinked and looked back down at the food. 'At least the tables look normal.' Which, except for the moments when the serving platters would replenish themselves from the kitchen, was true. The tables themselves were not inherently magical, nor was the food.

Around him, all of his friends were talking about their summers and what classes were going to be like this year. 'Sirius…' Harry reached for some potatoes as Hermione finally turned to include him in the conversation.

"Are you alright Harry? You've been quiet all feast, and Neville and Luna said they didn't see you on the train." She peered at him.

Harry waved at her with his fork to cover his twitch. "I'm fine, Hermione. I'm just glad to be back. As for the train, I found a compartment and fell asleep."

"Asleep?" Ron had joined the conversation now.

Harry tried to smile sheepishly, but wasn't sure if it worked. "I was so excited about this year that I couldn't sleep last night." He reached for a forkful of carrots quickly to try and avoid more conversation.

Ron grinned and patted him on the back. Harry nearly chocked at the force. "I know what you mean mate! This place is like a second home now." The red head quickly went back to eating his mountain of food.

Hermione pulled a grimace. "Oh Ron! I would have thought in five years here you would have learned how to eat properly." She huffed and turned back to Harry.

"Now, you're sure that's all Harry? I mean, we don't need you collapsing from the flu or something during classes." She reached out to grab his hand.

Harry pulled his hand away on the pretext of getting some roast beef before Ron devoured it all. "I'm fine 'Mione. Just a bit tired and excited." He smiled at her. "I'll be fine in the morning."

Hermione gave him a disbelieving stare he carefully avoided. "If you're sure then." Lavender quickly pulled her into a conversation after that and Harry was able to escape questioning for the rest of the meal.

..::...::...::..

After reaching the common room, Harry wiggled out of the welcome back party the older years were throwing and almost ran up the stairs to the sixth year dorms. He absently noticed his stuff beside one of the beds before running into the bathroom. He reached one of the stalls and quickly puked out most of what he had eaten for supper. He had known his body wouldn't react well to a large intake of food so soon after the summer, but it had been the only way he could think of to avoid questioning.

Feeling his stomach settle after a few more heaves, he flushed the toilet and stumbled to the sinks. He turned the cold tap on and rinsed out his mouth before looking up into the mirror. He winced and quickly turned away. Everyone always said he looked like his father, but all Harry ever saw was an ugly coward and a freak.

Spinning away from his reflection, he exited the bathroom and walked over to his bed. He changed quickly, avoiding looking at his scars, and laid down on the soft bed. If there was one thing he still loved about Hogwarts, it was the beds. Closing his eyes, he used his wand to pull the curtains shut and locked them with a privacy charm.

Shoving his wand under his pillow, Harry opened his eyes to the soft shimmering light of his own pale green coloured magic. The spell he used blocked out all of the other auras from the castle and left him only with the glow of his own to deal with. His headache ebbed away and Harry allowed himself to breathe deeply. 'Why do I have a feeling most of my free time will be spent locked away like this?' He still had twinges of sharp pain from whatever had happened to him, and had only a basic grasp on his mage sight. He groaned. 'Hogwarts is going to be hell this year.'

Banishing the thought from his mind, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. After several minutes, his breathing evened out and sleep claimed him.

When the other boys finally came up to sleep, they never noticed the charm around on Harry's curtains, nor the soft cries from behind them as the small black haired boy cried in his sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Yet more mysterious allusions to what is happening to dear Harry~ We kinda feel bad for putting Harry in pain, but he's so cute when he cries.

The next chapter is a slow chapter (flashbacks for the win!), but the story will pick up again after that. Necessary mushy chapter is necessary and mushy however.

Reviews are love.

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	3. Phantoms of a Thousand Hours

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: This _entire_ chapter is in flashbacks. During the dueling club incident 2nd year, Cedric was the one who was almost attacked by the snake, not Justin Finch-Fletchley. Date markers are temporarily discarded; events start in 1994 during Harry's Third Year. Parts are sequential.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

**_Revised January 2013._**

* * *

**Phantoms of a Thousand Hours**

* * *

Harry panted as he raced down the corridors to the dungeons where Professor Snape was waiting for him. 'Why did Ron have to have those last two cherry tarts?' Harry bemoaned to himself as he ran.

He skidded down the hallway, scraping his hand against one of the walls, as he attempted to slow down enough to make the turn to the dungeons.

"Ooomph!"

Harry felt himself fall backwards and flung his hands out as he hit the floor. 'Owwww…'

He hissed in pain and lifted his palms to survey the damage. It wasn't bad, but Harry would have to dig some of the loose stone out later.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Harry looked up from his self-examination. The brown haired boy in front of him looked familiar, but Harry couldn't place him. "No, it's my fault." He grabbed the hand that was offered to him and dusted off his robes gingerly. He smiled at the other boy. "I shouldn't have been running so fast." Harry froze as he remembered where he was supposed to be right now.

"Still, I feel like it's partly my fault you fell down." The boy grinned sheepishly.

Sweat starting to dampen his shirt, Harry spluttered out a quick, "I'm sorry! I have to go!" He bolted. "I was supposed to be in detention with Snape right now! Oh, he's going to boil me and use me for some sort of horrible potion!" The wail bounced against the stone walls and Harry grasped his hair as he ran. 'Please let me still be on time,' he prayed.

..::...::...::..

Cedric stared after the flapping robes of the boy he had knocked down. He could still hear his yells after he rounded the next corner. He chucked slightly to himself. 'So that was Harry Potter? What an unusual boy.' He looked down at his hand. It was slightly warm from Harry's panting body. 'He was definitely better looking than most of the other younger boys. He'll have problems when he gets older.'

He calmly turned and began walking off when it hit him. Harry had been going the wrong way. He chuckled even louder before breaking out into laughter. 'That poor kid. I hope Snape doesn't do anything too bad to him.'

* * *

Sighing, Harry wandered away from the shelf full of self-help history textbooks and closer to the exit. Hermione had dragged Ron and him into the library to prepare for Binn's test next week. Both boys freely admitted that they knew very little, if any, of what Binn's had been trying to teach.

The last few tests, they had made up convincing goblin names and written down useless facts. It had worked so far, and Harry didn't see why they actually had to study for this one. 'Stupid Ron. Why did he have to tell 'Mione he didn't know anything.' Harry kicked the bottom of one of the bookcases angrily. 'Then he had to drag me into it too. Saying I was as bad off as he was.' He gave the bookcase another solid kick before quickly moving a few rows down to nurse his injured toes.

He entered the aisle and peeked through the shelves to where he could make out Hermione lecturing Ron on some finer point in goblin history. He stared hard for a few seconds to make sure they wouldn't notice him before he raced across the library to the sports section: which was conveniently beside the defense section. Go figure.

He scanned the shelves before picking up a book on sports for magical creatures. He let his shoulders relax as he sat down in the aisle and flipped through the book, reading anything that looked interesting. 'Who knew Centaurs played something like football?'

He was just starting on the section for vampires when someone cleared their throat.

Bracing himself, he looked up. 'Please don't let it be Hermione. Please don't let it be Hermione.' He found himself looking into laughing golden-brown eyes.

"Hello again." The boy above him smiled. "Do you usually hide in bookcases from smart witches?"

Harry glanced down to the book in his hands before standing up, putting one finger between the pages to hold his place. "Umm…not normally." Harry racked his brain for a minute. "You're…Cedric, right?" He blushed slightly. "Umm…weren't you the one at the dueling club who…" Harry stalled out. His throat was closing in on itself, and it felt like he had swallowed a handful of mothballs.

Cedric's smile faded. "Yes. I was." He fidgeted in place. "Look, about what everyone was saying… I'm sorry." His gaze never left Harry's as he said this. "I just want to tell you that I didn't believe what everyone was saying about your being the Heir. I knew it couldn't be true." The corners of his mouth tilted up slightly at the very edges.

Harry's breath seemed to rush out of his mouth in a great gust. He tilted backwards on his heels. "You-you really believe that?" His head began to spin. His eyes locked into Cedric's as he tried to see if the other boy was lying.

Cedric kept his voice even as he continued, "Yes. I really believe that. I also believe that you were telling the snake to back off that day. I don't think you were egging it on at all." He gave Harry one last smile and turned, walking briskly away from the boy.

Harry finally fell backwards against the bookcase. 'Someone believes me.' Sure, Ron and Hermione had believed him, but he figured the rest were sheep who had believed the Daily Prophet about him. Plus, this was Cedric who believed him. The guy who the snake had been going after believed him. It felt as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't consciously realized that it bothered him people didn't believe him, it was just how it was.

He took a deep breath and looked over to where Cedric had walked away. He smiled. 'Thank you…' Opening his book back up, he was just getting ready to start the next section when Hermione came storming around the corner.

"Harry! I thought you were looking at History books! Not-not whatever that is!" She put her hands on her hips. "Come back here right now and get to work. I've written up a practice quiz with questions I think will show up."

Harry smiled slightly to himself as he let Hermione drag him by his arm across the library back to a table with a smirking Ron. Currently, he thought he could pass any test Hermione threw at him.

* * *

Harry ran, panting, out to the Quidditch field. Yet another detention with Snape had caused him to miss Gryffindor's team practice. So here he was now, running through wet grass and trying not to trip over his shoelaces so he could get to the field for some private practice time.

Harry broke out into a smile when the field finally appeared in front of him. 'Why do they always have to have it so far out?'

He tossed his bag onto one of the benches by the edge of the green and stripped off his outer robe. It was only then that he noticed someone else flying above him. The figure was too high up to see much, but Harry guessed it had to be another Quidditch player because of the maneuvers they were pulling.

He hoped he wasn't imposing, but Harry had to practice for the next match. Katie was already mad at him for missing several team practices, and if he didn't pull through in the match against Ravenclaw, he would be off the team.

Shrugging, Harry kicked off and soared into the sky. Wind flung his hair around him and he barrel rolled to warm up his arms. Humid air rushed past his face as he twisted and turned in the air, his eyes following an invisible snitch. After a few moments of private practice, Harry noticed the other person hovering a few feet above him, watching. A little embarrassed, he let his broom float higher until he was on the same level.

Soft-looking brown hair fluttered in the air. Harry blushed. He wondered if Cedric remembered that day in the library. "Did I interrupt you?" he asked as quietly as he could; which, since he had to yell, wasn't all that quietly. The other boy smiled reassuringly at him.

"No." He waved a hand at Harry. "Do you want to play a game of chase the snitch or something? You've missed quite a bit of practice from what I hear."

Harry felt the urge to duck his head, but resisted. He raised an eyebrow and attempted to cool his blush. "Did you bring a snitch?"

Cedric waved his hand again and Harry saw a glint of gold between his fingers. "Officially certified for game use." He lowered his hand to his side and widened his smile. "I take it that was a yes?"

Harry tightened his grip on his broom and nodded. "First to five catches wins?" he called across.

Cedric smirked at him and released the snitch. Both boys locked eyes to allow the snitch a head-start. "I've been waiting for a rematch."

Harry blinked and Cedric spun off to circle the field. Harry grinned and spun his broom into a descending spiral.

* * *

Harry stared. Then, because he couldn't think of anything else to do, he stared some more. 'You have got to be kidding me.' His knees felt weak and started to waver. His hand shot out and gripped at the wall beside him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the fidgeting teen in front of him. "Yes."

Before the final syllable could make it past his lips, Harry was engulfed in a hug.

"Cedric," Harry gasped and wrapped his arms around the other boy's firm back. He could feel tears start to burn in his eyes, but refused to let them show.

Cedric noticed however and pulled back. "Are you sure, Harry?" The older Hufflepuff held Harry at arms length and searched his face. The younger boy looked shaken and pale but, for the most part, seemed happy.

Harry gave Cedric a pitiful smile. "Of course, you idiot." He swiped at Cedric's shoulder playfully before launching forward and wrapping his arms around the older boy again. "I would love to be your boyfriend."

* * *

"Cedric?" Harry whispered, pushing past the vines of the Mircea plant. The tendrils tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as the plant reached for the vein in his neck. "Go away…" He had to push it away twice before he finally got completely away.

When he finally tore away from the plant, he looked around the moonlit garden. Nothing was disturbed from the classes earlier that day. There was no sign that anyone was there at all…

Harry sighed in frustration as the Mircea plant reached for him again and brushed against his neck. The feeling sent shivers down his spine. He stepped out of its reach again. "Cedric Diggory if you are out here, you'd better answer me!" There was soft laugh from across the courtyard, and Harry immediately knew whom it was from.

Sure enough, his boyfriend stepped out of the shadows and into the pale moonlight of the garden. The light made him practically glow, and his smile seem ten times as bright. "You alright there, Harry?"

Harry returned the grin, taking another step toward Cedric. "I will be as soon as I get away from this bloody plant."

"Annoying, isn't it?" Cedric met him halfway and smiled down at the shorter boy. He dropped his voice to a soft whisper. "Thanks for meeting me Harry."

Harry lowered his head. "It's not a problem." He raised his head slightly to look through his bangs and smile shyly at the older boy.

Cedric chuckled and pulled Harry closed to him in a hug, maneuvering the younger boy's head to rest on his right shoulder. "You don't have to be afraid of me Harry."

Harry shoved Cedric lightly, but not hard enough to actually move the boy. Harry was comfortable enough where he was, despite the fact that the multiple layers of fabric both wore didn't let Cedric's body heat warm him up. "Who would ever be afraid of you?" He snorted. "Now Norbert, he's scary."

Harry could almost feel Cedric's raised eyebrow. "Norbert? Should I be jealous?" There was a joking tone in his voice that led Harry to believe that, despite his words, Cedric wasn't concerned.

Harry let himself relax against the Hufflepuff. "No." Cedric h'mmed and Harry felt the vibrations through his cheek. 'Is it always going to be this cool? Being with Cedric?'

Harry felt Cedric laugh gently and Harry glanced up. The other pointed back to the Mircea plant. A small bird was hopping on the stone ledge beside the plant, and every time one of the plant's tendrils came near, the bird would hop away. The plant would drop its vines as soon as the bird was out of reach, but then the bird would move back into range.

"It's teasing it." Cedric's breath puffed across his ear and Harry shivered. Goosebumps raced down Harry's spine.

"The plant deserves it." Harry uttered in conviction.

Cedric spun the boy around and gazed at him. "Harry, how could you say such a thing?" His face had a fake-affronted look pasted on it.

Harry smirked, "Because that plant tried to eat me, and because I'm going to do this."

Cedric was caught by surprise as a small snowball hit him in the back of the head. He growled playfully. "You're going to regret that Harry."

Harry kept smirking and danced idly out of reach. "So catch me if you can." He stuck his tongue out at the older boy and spun, sprinting off towards the other end of the castle. He could hear his boyfriend in hot pursuit. 'Maybe it will always be this nice.'

* * *

Cedric pushed him up against the wall roughly. "Oh Merlin, I've missed you Harry." One of Cedric's Quiddith-toned thighs slid between Harry's legs to help pin the younger boy in place. Pale pink lips attacked his throat, and Harry barely kept himself from moaning aloud at the sensation. Cedric swiped his tongue over the marks he left behind. "Is Snape being nice to you yet?"

Harry gasped and leaned his head back to allow the older boy better access. "N-no, ungh, should he be being?"

Cedric chuckled against his skin. "No, just wondering." He rolled one of Harry's nipples between his fingers and whispered against Harry's ear. "Plus, I like to hear you stumble over your words." He pinched the abused skin and grinned as he saw Harry spasm.

"Oh Merlin." His knees collapsed on him and he fell. Cedric caught him just as he was about to fall onto Cedric's knee. Cedric shifted to bracket Harry with his body instead and hugged Harry to him. One arm curled low around Harry and settled around the small of his back.

"That was rather silly of you Harry." He layered kisses along Harry's jaw. The shorter male panted against him and slid his hands up Cedric's untucked shirt.

"Not so silly," he breathed as he traced Cedric's ribs through his skin. "It got you closer to me." He shivered as he stood on his toes and kissed Cedric's lips. He could feel Cedric's skin warming slightly under his touch and he purred in his throat.

Cedric loved the noises Harry was making and deepened the kiss, pulling Harry's tongue into his own mouth. Harry eagerly accepted the invitation and pulled Cedric flush against him.

Both wished these moments could last much longer than the stolen fifteen minutes they made before curfew.

* * *

"No! Swish your arm in more of a circle motion when you cast the banishing charm." Cedric repositioned his arm for him. "Try again."

Harry gritted his teeth. They had been at this for several weeks now, ever since Dumbledore had announced the third task, and Harry was getting sick of it. He felt like he was going to explode on Cedric, but he didn't want to. His shoulders tensed as he raised his wand again.

The spell slammed into one of the vases they were practicing with and it exploded. Ceramic shards made a glittering mess as they flew through the air amidst the powder that composed most of the late vase. Cedric spun Harry around roughly, his hand tight enough on Harry's arm it was painful. "What's wrong with you? That was completely off." His eyebrows furrowed together.

Harry jerked his arm out of Cedric's grasp. The older Hufflepuff was staring at him. Anger and frustration broiled in Harry and the younger male made a jerking motion with his entire body. "I just," Harry's voice broke. "I hate that you keep pushing me to be better like you know something will happen." And just like that the anger imploded into something so much more painful and sad. He flailed his arms nervously. "We only get to spend so much time together. It seems like every time we step out of this room, some reporter or another is standing there, just waiting to break the latest story on the great Harry-bloody-Potter." He dropped his arms.

"I just wish we could spend time together the way normal couples do, instead of preparing for life-threatening situations." He looked into Cedric's tawny brown eyes. The older boy looked ready to bolt. Harry sighed and stepped forward. "Forget it. The stress of this tournament is just getting to me." He buried his nose in Cedric's shirt.

He felt Cedric's body relax slightly from its tense position. The brunette wrapped trembling arms around Harry. "No, I was most likely pushing you too hard." Cedric's arms tightened slightly and he buried his nose in Harry's hair, inhaling deeply. "It's just, you're the Boy-Who-Lived." A quirk of lips against Harry's head. "I don't want to lose you to some idiot hoping to make a name for himself."

Harry chuckled lightly. He pushed himself away from the other boy and smiled at him. "So, what do you say we finish this charm and then move onto something more enjoyable?"

Cedric chuckled and spun Harry around. He repositioned Harry's arms for the spell and stepped back, letting his fingers linger longer than was necessary on his shoulder. Harry smiled and shot off what had to have been, in his opinion, the best banishing charm ever cast.

* * *

Candlelight gleamed off the bronze fixtures and reflected golden light around the room. Harry gazed adoringly at his sleeping boyfriend. 'Boyfriend…and maybe lover.' Harry blushed at the thought. The two hadn't even talked about going that far, but sometimes Harry wondered what it would feel like.

As he shifted positions, the sheet slid down his body, the weight pulling it down Cedric's body as well. Pale alabaster skin nearly seemed to shine in Harry's sight. Ravenously, he let his eyes follow his boyfriend's curves down and to the edge of the sheets. The other teen's strong body was full of sharp angles and smooth skin, almost as if it was made from a dream. Harry shook his head at the romantic thought and let himself drop back down onto the bed.

Cedric's eyelids fluttered and Harry felt a strong arm wrap around him and pull him closer. "Are you enjoying yourself Harry?" Cedric's voice was throaty from sleep and Harry shivered, desire running down his spine.

"Yes, I am actually," replied Harry as he snuggled closer to Cedric. "How ever did you guess?"

Cedric gave a throaty chuckle. "Just my intuition, that and your staring was rather…heated." He gave another chuckle as Harry hit him lightly on the chest. "That was a compliment, love." He rolled over on top of Harry and let himself go boneless.

"Hey!" Harry gave a half-hearted shrug at his boyfriend. "You're kind of heavy." He shoved Cedric again, but the other boy refused to move.

Cedric let himself relax farther. "You can get over it."

Harry grinned into his boyfriend's shoulder and let himself relax as well. "Fine."

For a while, the only sound in the room was their breathing. Harry felt himself beginning to drift off. Hundreds of thoughts flew through his head. He always had a clearer mind just before he went to sleep than any other time. "Cedric…are you worried about tomorrow?" He whispered the question quietly, almost afraid of getting an answer.

Cedric inhaled sharply. "No. Not about the competition, but about you? Yes." Cedric's arms burrowed underneath Harry to hug the smaller boy to his chest. "I worry about you getting seriously harmed. This competition was banned for a reason, and I don't want anyone, especially you, to die."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. 'Can he be anymore perfect?' The thought came from nowhere and Harry felt his eyes burn. "Yea right, I'm Harry Potter, the boy-with-fifty-million-hyphens-in-his-name. Nothing can kill me." He kept his tone light, but his arms wrapped tight around his boyfriend. "After all, I would feel bad if I deprived you of my awesomeness for any extreme length of time."

Cedric chuckled and rolled back on his side to take his weight off of his love. "I would hate to have you feel bad. Merlin forgive."

Harry gave a light laugh and snuggled deeper into Cedric's arms.

* * *

"Just take the cup!" Harry said bitterly.

"No," said Cedric. He stepped over the dead spider and walked up to Harry, who was staring at him. Cedric's eyes and his tone told Harry he was deadly serious. His boyfriend was walking away from the glory of a Hufflepuff victory for him.

"Go on," Cedric said. His face was set and his arms were folded.

Harry looked from Cedric to the cup. His lower lip was pulled into his mouth as he thought. "Both of us," he finally said, the words coming out rushed but clear with determination.

"What?" Cedric's tone, in contrast, was ruffled.

Harry gently tested his weight on his sprained ankle. "Both of us will take the cup at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory and everything." Cedric stared at Harry. "I'm sure – really, I am! We've helped each other out through this whole competition anyway. We both got here at the same time. So let's just take it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears; then his face split into a grin. "You're on!" He said. He motioned Harry over with one hand. "Come here."

When Harry didn't move fast enough for him, Cedric strode over, grabbed his arm below the shoulder, and helped him limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they reached it, both held a hand out over the cup's gleaming handles.

Harry looked up at Cedric. "I love you."

Cedric stared at him for a moment, seemingly more shocked by that statement than his offer to give up the Triwizard Cup. Then his eyes softened and started to shimmer. "I love you too." He bent down and gently kissed his boyfriend on the lips.

Harry smiled into the kiss and then they both turned and grasped a handle at the same time.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet left the ground. When he tried, he realized that he was unable to release the handle his hand was clenched around. The Triwizard Cup was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling colour, Cedric at his side. The last thought was the only one keeping him from panicking.

..::...::...::..

Harry felt it when his feet slammed into the ground. The colours had splintered as they disgorged the two of them, and the sudden change in pressure caused his ears to pop. His injured leg gave way upon impact with the earth and he fell forward, gasping quietly. The Triwizard Cup fell from his hand and hit the ground with a thud. He felt Cedric pull him up against him.

"Where are we?" It was obvious they had left Hogwarts completely; the mountains that had surrounded the castle were gone and instead they were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard. Brambles high enough to have given Aunt Petunia a heart attack crawled between and around everything in sight. Harry was forced to lean heavily against Cedric for the time as the ground under him sank and shifted.

Taking a moment to adjust the two of them, Cedric helped Harry get his feet under him before replying. "No idea." He glared down at the cup and then glanced up at Harry. "I take it no one told you the cup was a portkey." It came out lacking the necessary lilt at the end to make it a question.

"No." Harry looked around the graveyard suspiciously. He tried to stare into the dark shadows and make sense of their situation. "I don't think this is part of the test anymore." The graveyard was completely silent and slightly eerie.

Both boys kept their wands out and pointed slightly downward. Harry had the strange feeling that they were being watched. A pressure, a presence. "Someone's coming," he said suddenly. He squinted, trying to use the dim light the Cup still glowed with to see further. At his side, Cedric took a slight step away to give them room to move.

A dark figure was making its way steadily towards them, weaving steadily between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face. "It's carrying something," Cedric hissed under his breath.

Whoever it was, they were short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over their head to obscure anything. Several paces nearer, Harry saw what Cedric had pointed out: a mass of dark cloth cradled carefully and moving slightly. He couldn't tell if it was a baby or just a bundle of robes shifting with the motion of the figure's steps.

The figure stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet away from them. For a second, Harry, Cedric, and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was pain worse than anything he had felt before, and it ripped through him like a knife. Agony. His wand slipped from lax fingers. Distantly he heard another scream from beside him. He put his hands over his face, fingers clawing at his forehead in an attempt to stop the pain. Damp cold seeped into his robes from where he had collapsed on the mushy ground. He couldn't see anything. His head felt like it was going to split open.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, "_Kill the spare_."

A swishing noise and Harry heard a second voice screech two words to the night: "_Avada Kedavra_!"

A blast of emerald green light blazed through Harry's eyelids and he heard something fall heavily to the ground beside him. The pain in his head reached such a pitch that he retched. Choking out acid, he felt the pain slowly diminish. Too emotional to do more than drool over his chin to get the last of the bile from his mouth, Harry opened his stinging eyes slowly, terrified of what he would see.

Cedric was lying spread-eagle on the ground beside him. He was dead.

For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face. Cedric, his love, his friend, his only. His once warm hazel eyes were a dull colour, almost black, blank and expressionless. His mouth hung half-open in a silent scream.

Before Harry's mind had accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet. He screamed as whoever it was touched him. His eyes focused on Cedric's pale face. He couldn't get past the sight; it blocked everything else out. Pain exploded in his throat as he kept screaming, but he didn't care; Cedric was dead.

* * *

**A/N:** To clarify some, just in case it wasn't clear from the text, Harry and Cedric have NOT had anal intercourse yet. Harry, at this point in time, is still a virgin. The furthest the two got was heavy petting.  
Reviews are love!

Ja,  
Caits and Naoi


	4. Interlude One: Contemplations

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised January 2013.**_

* * *

**Interlude One: Contemplations of a Devious Nature**

* * *

September 12, 1996 ~ Slytherin Common Room, Hogwarts

Draco glared at the roll of parchment in front of him. He was supposed to be writing thirty inches on the various uses of wormwood in healing potions, but he couldn't seem to focus enough to care. He growled and threw his quill onto the desk, still aware enough to throw it far away from his parchment. He really didn't want to have to rewrite the bloody thing.

'Bloody Potter.' Sighing lightly in exasperation, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed the empty common room. Double-checking his wards, he let out a groan and fully slumped down in his chair. It was a relief to be able to let himself relax slightly. To be able to let go of the Malfoy pride for just a few moments.

Thoughts of the dark-haired savior crowded into his mind; all of them clamoring to be acknowledged. He rubbed small circles against his temple, allowing a thread of healing magic to soothe him.

Ever since he had seen him that day on Platform 9 ¾, thoughts of Harry bloody Potter wouldn't leave him alone.

It didn't help that every time he saw him, the dark-haired boy looked more and more stressed. The others couldn't see it, but Draco could feel the other boy's magic becoming more frazzled every time he saw him. It was as annoying as it was worrying.

It had gotten to the point of bothering the Malfoy heir enough that he had asked Snape to partner him up with Potter in Defense classes, just to make sure the boy was alright. During each class, Draco tried to sneak threads of his own magic into Harry's. He knew from his father that his magic had a calming effect on most wizards. Luckily, it seemed to be helping. Also luckily, Harry hadn't shown any signs of addiction. The boy had even thrown Draco a confused smile a few times after he did it. It was as if Harry knew Draco was helping, just not how.

Draco sighed again, pressing his fingers harder into his head. The worst part was that Draco enjoyed Harry's smiles.

He gave up trying to stop the thoughts in his head from voicing themselves. Picking up his books, he stuffed them all into his bag to head for the dormitories. He could write the essay for Slughorn before class. It wasn't as if he didn't know the material. He snorted. 'Yeah right. I probably know more than that worm could even dream of knowing.'

A quick wave of his hand as he stood removed the warding spells he had set up. There was no point in letting some of the more curious upperclassmen know he could cast those spells. He slung his bag over his shoulder and climbed the steps to his dormitory room.

Crabbe and Goyle were out like boulders. Thankfully, after first year, his father had taught him a spell for quieting their snores. Draco tossed his bag down at the foot of his bed just inside his personal wards. Quickly stripping down to his boxers, he tossed his uniform on the floor for the house elves to get.

Shivering from the cold, he climbed into his four-poster and drew the curtains. A glimmer and muted spark showed his protection wards setting themselves for the night. Curling into his covers, he exhaled softly. 'Bloody Potter. I hope your magic behaves tomorrow.'

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, Draco's magic is special. It will come into play later, along with Draco's feelings (and Harry's~).

Reviews are love!

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	5. Interlude Two: A Letter from Lucius

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: Please note that this takes place _before_ the events of Interlude One, and before the start of the school year.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised January 2013.**_

* * *

**Interlude Two: A Letter from Lucius**

* * *

August 19, 1996

Dear Draco,

I apologize for not being there to tell you this in person, and have instead warded this letter as thoroughly as I am capable at the moment. Governor Wilhelm is rather distraught without my opinions on popular culture, and I would hate to know I was partially responsible for a collapse of the magical community here. I expect to be back to the Manor soon however to answer any questions you may have. Please wait until my return to voice them.

Your mother informed me the other day by owl that she had revealed your Veela heritage to you. From what she said, you took it well. Don't worry about the carpets; I have already commissioned new rugs from François.

What I have to tell you now, I wish for you to assess calmly.

Most other purebloods assume Malfoys have Veela or Elvish blood in our veins, but they guess only based on incorrect rumours – some of which we have spread ourselves. We hold something much more precious in our blood. Malfoys hold the power of dragons in our veins. The nature of this connection can wait until I am back to be explained. To put things simply for the time being, every few generations, to keep the bloodline strong with the unique mixture of magic we have come to call our own, a Malfoy heir will be bred with a dragon. The last Malfoy to do so was your grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. Due to the nature of dragon blood, this gives you a half-dragon heritage; combine this with your Black Veela heritage, and you, Draco, are one of the only Dragon-Veela-Wizard hybrids in existence.

This will cause many problems with your magic upon your majority. At present there is no way to tell which draconic affinity your core will shape itself towards. The change is dependent as much upon the individual - his temperament, experiences, and magical structure - as much as it is by heritage. The introduction of wizarding magic into something more primal always leaves room for error in any diagnosis of the core before majority. We can make assumptions based on experience, but your linage is still close enough to the injection to be partial mutable.

Despite the possible differences in our affinities, I am positive about some of the changes you will experience – some of which may even begin to emerge this year. Your magical capacity will experience a near doubling in size - the natural increase of a majority is boosted by the magical creature aspect. This may cause issues with your control so I advise you to be careful. You must also be careful that your magic does not intoxicate your classmates. Draconic magic is known to be addicting to most wizards: similar to unicorn blood in some ways. Watch yourself most closely in group activities, and try to partner with different wizards or witches to keep from accidentally overdosing any one particular.

Most of our ancestors have had some aspect of magical immunity, healing, or foresight. These traits may show up this year, so I will be sending periodic healing and dreamless sleep potions for you. (If it turns out that your aspect is more volatile, you may wish to approach Severus for general help with this as well as he has access to greater store of potions.) I myself had many problems with my classmates and nearly decapitated some of them. Dolohov especially was annoying, be thankful there is no spawn of his at Hogwarts for you to endure. I would advise you to find a location which calms you and endeavor to spend at least an hour there every day.

There will most likely be many more changes, but attempting to divine them beforehand would be unwise. Each species has a different affinity which will react differently from any other.

We shall talk more on this when I return.

Lucius Malfoy

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, another interlude, but they do help clarify things, no? A post shall be going up on the Dreamwidth community with more backstory information detailing the initial addition of draconic elements into the Malfoy line and the experiments which led to the current linage.

Reviews are love.

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	6. Chapter Two: Serpentine Shadows

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: The squeamish may read up until the date markers become unknowns and then skip to the next chapter.

French translations provided at the end of each section; translations provided by Google Translate and subject to all inherent flaws present with using such a tool.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_(This chapter is where some of the more hardcore warnings re:torture start to come into play. **Consider this your warning**. I have refrained from most outright explicit content, but the allusions and crude language _are_ there.)_

**_Revised February 2013._**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Serpentine Shadows**

* * *

December 8, 1996 ~ Hogwarts

Harry stared at the dome surrounding Hogwarts. It had taken him until the end of September to get away from Hermione and Ron long enough to go to the library alone. That meant a few weeks of headaches, well-meaning pain, and strangely, a helpful Malfoy. Eventually he had been able to escape with the excuse of researching for a charms essay.

Hogwarts didn't have many books on magical heritage, but Harry devoured the few he did manage to find - pushing past the sleep that tried to grab him each time the words grew too big or complex until he was able to finish. The pain of magic-induced headaches was a strong motivator in this endeavor.

It turned out that very few wizards had magical heritages in this Era and that the Ministry had banned teaching about them in classrooms. That meant that muggleborns – and Harry – had no idea pureblood and half-blood wizards could gain extra powers until after the fact.

So far, none of the books mentioned anything that fit what Harry was experiencing. A few of them mentioned inheritances involving a form of mage sight, but they were always mentioned in conjunction with some other ability Harry didn't have, like precognition. 'And thank goodness for that,' he told himself. 'Trelawney would have a fit.'

A frown grew on his face as he watched the shifting colours of the dome. One point all the books agreed upon had been that a witch or wizard first started showing signs of a magical inheritance when they turned seventeen. Not sixteen.

'Just another thing that's freaky about me,' Harry told himself. He watched intently as the fields seemed to shift in his vision. He smiled and took his glasses off. He had been watching the dome for a while now, and had almost figured out how to change his vision at will.

As he looked on, the dome wavered before splitting into multiple layers which Harry saw as something similar to cobwebs moving lazily in the sky. He reclined against a tree and watched as the webs spun around and through one another. He let his eyes fall to half-mast as he relaxed against the bark. A sense of pride welled up in his chest.

When he first arrived at Hogwarts, everything had been just a mad blur of colours. It took several days before he managed to distinguish individual mist-like forms over things. After that had come shifting clouds of colour that showed what spells were moving where, how they interacted with one another, and the thin lines that would trip them. Harry had been especially fascinated with this, and ended up spending quite a few nights in the Room of Requirement watching as his spells glowed and their target rings activated.

His vision had changed again a month ago to where he was able to distinguish a dome over Hogwarts. There were also a few lighter domes over areas like the greenhouses and the lake. The Forbidden Forest had one of the most colourful domes of all. It was a slight sore point that it took Harry three days of looking at the sprawling expanse of the giant magical bubble over Hogwarts before he hit on the fact it was a ward.

It was only after he had spent several weeks looking at the dome that the cobwebs had begun to emerge. And now, he was almost able to control the latest version of his sight.

His chest expanded and he smiled, content to let himself evolve as he would. 'So what if the books can't tell me what I am… I'll just figure it out myself.' Satisfied with that, he continued to watch the cobwebs above him swirl and dance.

..::...::...::..

He had been watching the wards for several hours - almost dozing under the bright lines - when he felt them shift suddenly. His eyes snapped open and he stared, trying to figure out what was wrong.

The dome wavered in his sight. 'Please no.' Instinct had him standing as if the small chance in distance would bring the wards into greater clarity. Instead, lips bitten between teeth, he watched as the webs melded partially back into the single dome shape. The wards resembled a tree now, large parts stuck together with some of the web-shaped tendrils still outside the solid mass. Harry could feel his eyes watering. He strained to relax and keep the webs in sight even as tension pulled his shoulders tight.

Sweeping gaze across the grounds, he looked for any irregularities he could find. He bit his lip. 'I think only the wards on the outside were changed...' His eyes swept over them again. 'But I can't be sure!' He felt like pulling his hair out and screaming. Holding onto what calm he could in order to try and keep the wards in view, Harry dropped his weight into a crouch, one hand on the ground to keep him balanced and ready to push him off. 'Almost five weeks of looking at the wards and I can't even bloody well tell which ones have changed.'

He flicked his wrist to bring his wand into his hand and began to creep back to the castle, still struggling to keep his eyes relaxed and focused on the few cobwebs remaining in his sight.

He made it about four feet before he felt something impact him from behind, forcing him into tripping forward. There was a burning pain spreading from under his shoulder blades. Harry's limbs began to feel heavy, and he turned just as his attacker reached him. He caught a glimpse of black cloaks, silver masks, and a waving of purple magic lines before he was bombarded with a series of red lights. He jerked and blacked out before he hit the ground.

* * *

December 12, 1996 ~ Captured

Harry groaned as he sat up slowly. His head hurt, and most of his body felt unpleasantly numb. He took vague note of the stone walls surrounding him, but he felt too tired to panic just yet. The clinking of metal and the sensation of foreign pressure when Harry went to massage his temples alerted his slow mind to the chains clamped around his wrists. His eyes tracked the dull metal of the chains attached to the bands to where the ends disappeared through small holes in the stone floor.

Frowning, he ran his fingers around the bands on his wrists looking for a latch. He didn't see or feel one. 'Great. Of course, even if I found a latch, it doesn't mean I could open it.' He sighed.

In one corner of the room was a small wooden bed his captors had kindly decided not to put him on. It had a single pillow and a thin blanket on it. Across from it was a bucket. He raised an eyebrow. 'Medieval much?' All the same, at least he didn't have to start designating corners.

An edge of uneasiness stirred in a corner of his mind at how well he was taking this - about how he wasn't screaming and crying in terror. A larger part of Harry's consciousness scoffed mentally and he told himself it was because he didn't have the luxury of panicking, so of course he was taking it well. He smothered any other thoughts or ill-ease with an ease that came from years of training himself at the Dursleys.

He looked up as the lighting in the cell changed. A small window about two handspans wide set above the bed was the source. Groaning in pain, Harry braced his hands on the floor and went to stand. It was disconcerting at first due to the level of numbness his legs and hips had reached. Harry could _see_ himself planting his feet on the floor as he rolled to the side, but he wasn't able to feel more than a heavy thickness from the limbs themselves. His hips and lower back also felt about three times their normal size. Lips thinning, Harry set his feet how he thought they should be and rolled his body so it was set in an arch: hands and feet both on the floor, back hunched and head down. It stretched the skin uncomfortably where the first spell that had taken him out hit, but that was less important than falling on his arse on a cold stone floor.

Taking a deep breath - watching his legs all the while to make sure they didn't just slip and fall or disappear on him - Harry bent his knees and pushed backwards with his hands to shift into a hunched sort of crouch. A groan left his lips as he shifted his center of gravity, but he didn't fall. Another deep breath, hands on thighs this time, and Harry pushed with the thick stumps he knew of as his legs so he could get into a standing position.

Finally upright, Harry focused on walking carefully to the bed so he could check the window. Each step was a minor spear of discomfort through his numb legs and hips, but experience had taught Harry that the more he moved, the faster feeling would get back to the numb parts. Experience also taught that walking like a decrepit old man was nothing to be ashamed of it meant he could stay upright long enough for his lower body to recover.

Eight cautious steps later let Harry grasp the edge of the bed to lean against. His breathing was a little heavier than normal, but he smiled. Already his legs felt less like amorphous tingly goo and more like annoyingly thick tree branches.

Deciding to go about things the easy way, Harry dropped his weight onto the bed and crawled across on his knees until he could kneel before the window instead of trying to stand on the questionable surface. Rolling his shoulders as he reached the wall, he stared through the grimy film on the window and tried to recognize anything about where he was.

A large swathe of forest stretched as far as he could see; utterly monotonous and entirely unhelpful in offering clues about where Harry was. If he pressed his face against the bars and squinted, he could see sunlight glinting off of something to the right. The glare was too bright to see what it was, however, offering instead just a bright starburst of reflected light. For all he knew, it could have been Voldemort sunbathing in a metal bikini.

Giving up as he felt his knees start to collapse underneath him, he allowed himself to drop backwards. The bed was as hard as it had looked, but it had the advantage of being slightly more comfortable than the floor. His legs had mostly regained their feeling by now. Concentrating, he started flexing his ankles to encourage the blood to keep flowing.

There was the sound of footsteps from beyond the door to his room, but Harry declined moving off of the bed to investigate. Then door slammed open and, before he realized what was happening, Harry was pulled roughly to his feet. He shouted out as he was dragged off the bed and banged his mostly-un-numbed legs against the hard edge of the frame. "Hey!"

He didn't recognize the Death Eater who had grabbed him, but the guy could probably be related to Crabbe or Goyle from the way his brow threatened to overshadow his eyes. He winced as his arm was squeezed painfully tight. Another Death Eater stood in the doorway. Harry attempted to move when the man in the doorway threw a sudden incantation his way, but the ugly gorilla jerked him back in the way of the bright light.

The spell hit with a ping. Immediately the shackles started glowing a dark red and the chains trailing from each lifted to weld themselves together. The spare chain dropped to the floor and Harry now had a pair of manacles with a single chain between them. He glared at the man who had cast the spell.

"Your attendance is required in the main audience chamber. You will follow me."

Harry glared harder at the man. "How long did it take for you to memorize that line?" he asked sarcastically. A hand shoved him forward and Harry stumbled, pain shooting across his back since the bastard had hit the same place the spell that had tripped him had impacted. He heard the gorilla chuckle from behind him and grimaced, refusing to give a voice to his pain and allow the man any satisfaction.

Straightening from his hunched position, Harry strived to look regal. He had a feeling the manacles and muddy robes didn't help his attempt, but like hell Harry was going to show any weakness he could hide before these two lowlifes. 'Let's just get this over with,' he told himself.

"Take me to you leader," he commanded imperially. He doubted the Death Eaters understood the history behind what he said, but it made him feel better.

Instead of reacting, the man in the doorway simply turned and headed back into the hallway. The gorilla shoved Harry forward one more time, giggling to himself when Harry stumbled. Squaring his shoulders, Harry followed the Death Eater out into the hallway. Mind working desperately, he tried to memorize the turns and corners they took, but most of the time it looked like they were walking down the same hallway over and over again.

"Please do not attempt to consider escape as a viable option. These hallways have been spelled to confuse the senses and lead one astray until confirmation can be made of your intended destination."

Harry blinked at the Death Eater in front of him. 'When did Voldemort get intelligent Death Eaters? More importantly, how many of them are there?' He gave a quick, semi-frantic glance over his shoulder to see if the gorilla had gained any mental prowess that had escaped Harry's initial impression of him, but noticed the man's expression had glazed over. 'Apparently not enough to send two of them to get me.' As soon as the man had mentioned something, however, Harry noticed a sickly yellow-green glow coating the hallway through the corners of his eyes. It crept along the walls in creeping tendrils that tended to disappear if Harry tried to look directly at them. He swallowed and turned to attempting to bore a hole in the back of the Death Eater in front of him instead.

Soon after, they reached a large wooden door set at the end of a hallway. The front was embossed with a series of snakes and looping Celtic knots that spanned the entire surface. Harry's eyes began to burn the longer he looked at it, and a dark purple glow hazed into existence over the door. It made Harry feel sick to his stomach.

The Death Eater in front swung the door open smoothly and announced their presence. Gorilla-man shoved him through and Harry had to bite back the urge to hurl as he passed through the sickly glowing doors. At the far end of the room sat Voldemort. The Inner Circle was standing in a line to the right side of his throne, with Lucius and Bellatrix standing apart to flank the gaudy and weathered piece of furniture. Several other minor Death Eaters were arranged around the room in various corners. Every one of them seemed to hold their breath as their lord's greatest enemy was brought before him in chains.

"Harry Potter," rasped Lord Voldemort as he watched his nemesis being forced to kneel before him.

"Tom Riddle." Harry felt a lump of something block his throat and his scar was burning his head and his ears were throbbing with the too fast beat of his heart. He wouldn't have been surprised if his brain exploded all over the room.

Voldemort hissed. "That name is not welcome here."

"Oh, so sorry, Tom. Didn't realize that you were so touchy about your Muggle father." Harry accidentally bit his tongue as the gorilla hit him: forcing his face down against the floor. 'Stupid,' he berated himself.

There was a swish of cloth on stone and the slight creak of wood. "You will not talk unless spoken to, boy." His head was pounding, and Harry felt himself grow angry as memories surfaced. He hated it when people called him boy. Loathed it because it made him instinctively try and shrink; reflect back whatever emotion would save him rather than what he truly wanted to do or say. It reminded him of how warped he was.

"Now, Potter, I must admit... I never expected to find you sitting by yourself at the edge of the wards. What is more, my spy tells me you have had trouble casting spells in class lately." Harry cried out as Voldemort pulled him up by his hair - forced him to look into those slitted red eyes that haunted Harry's nightmares. "Tell me, hmm, were you waiting for someone?"

Tears stinging the corners of his eyes from the grip on his hair, Harry hollowed his cheeks to gather saliva before spitting on Voldemort's robes. "Like hell I was you bastard. Who would I have been waiting for, your mom?"

There was a harsh jerk to his head that tore several strands of his hair from their roots. Harry winced and narrowed his eyes. The tears at the corners of his eyes grew thicker though they hadn't fallen yet. The fleeting edge of a smirk was the only warning Harry had before a cutting curse was cast at his leg.

Harry's manacled hands jerked downwards at the sharp pain that sliced across the outside edge of his thigh. He hissed meaningless air between clenched teeth and pushed his palms down hard over the gash. The blood flowing down his leg was distracting in its warmth.

"_I am willing to overlook your obstinacy if you are willing to do something for me._" Voldemort's mouth was almost against his ear now, and Harry swore he was talking in Parseltongue from the way the words twisted over themselves. Harry swallowed as Voldemort's wand was pressed against his clavicle. The feeling of unyielding wood against bone was somewhat terrifying as Harry honestly couldn't say which would break first.

"_Join me_," Voldemort breathed, "_Become one of my Death Eaters._" The voice turned almost seductive with the next words, "_I will give you a position in my Inner Circle, with the same rank as Lucius_."

Harry shivered as the wand tilted and trailed its harsh touch up his throat. "_If you so wish it, I will even consider giving Bellatrix to you for a few hours_." The wand jabbed into the soft skin under his jaw, forcing his head back farther.

Harry felt his spine creak from the curve it was being forced into. His weight and the awkward angle kept his knees on the floor where his blood was seeping out in a slow stream. "_Never_," he said, tempted to spit again if only he could get his throat to cooperate. "_I prefer to kiss my own robes than those of an imposter half-blood_."

The wand at his throat was suddenly gone, and Harry knew he had overstepped farther than anticipated with his reply.

Voldemort growled deep in his throat, and threw Harry down hard against the floor. The teen slammed an elbow and shoulder against the stone, but Voldemort didn't bother waiting for Harry to move back into a kneeling position before near yelling out in fury, "_You dare think you are better than me?_" Some of the other Death Eaters shuffled nervously in their places as they heard the anger in their lord's voice.

Harry stared up and tried to resolve his fuzzy vision into something more detailed. Adrenaline was pumping through him, causing his blood to race and his head and leg to ache even more.

"_Crucio_!" Harry gasped as the curse hit. The pain was excruciating. The tears which had gathered in the corners of his eyes overflowed as soon as it started. He convulsed on the floor, legs drumming against the stone as they kicked out. He grabbed the ends of his sleeves in a white-knuckled grip that tore holes in the fabric as he tried to keep from clawing his face apart. He refused to scream. It was probably idiotic with the way the ends of his nerves were alighting with fire across his body and causing his muscles to seize, but Harry _had_ been sorted into Gryffindor; idiot things that caused more harm than not due to stubbornness were kind of their thing.

It felt like hours later when Voldemort released the curse. "_Because you have the potential to be useful, and I am feeling kind, I will give you two more chances to defy me boy. Only two, though._" Harry craned his head to the side to look up at his captor. Voldemort had a cruel smile on his face, and Harry could see the pointed ends of his teeth. "Until we meet again, Harry." With an overstated flourish, Voldemort stepped backwards from Harry's sprawled form. "_Crucio_!"

Harry was more prepared this time and tried to force his body to keep from thrashing as much against the floor. The pain ran through his veins like molten fire. In an effort to distance himself, he began to recite what he knew of the German alphabet. It wasn't much.

He had restarted seven times and finally made it to M - though he had a feeling he skipped a few letters - when he realized he was moving. He hadn't even realized he had been released from the Cruciatus Curse.

He passed through a doorway and Harry realized he had been taken back to the room he had first woken up in. Soft mummers of words focused his attention on the robed figure to his left. Harry thought he recognized one of the Death Eaters from the room with Voldemort, but his memory was a little shaky about it.

The Death Eater lowered him to the floor, allowing Harry to get a look at both of his hands and for his pain-fogged brain to realize he had been levitate back to his cell, not carried as he initially assumed. He lay limp on the stones as a Death Eater dragged his hands over his head to reattach his manacles to the floor chains with a quick flick and another murmured spell. The skin of his forearms felt tight and it itched.

"My Lord bids you to have a nice day. He will see you again when his schedule permits. Please enjoy your room. We wish for you to feel welcome here," the Death Eater said as he bent over Harry and double checked the chains by giving them a light tug.

'The eloquent one brought me back then…' The clatter of the chains, his chains, sent another shot of helpless frustration through him. "Fuck you," Harry said through clenched teeth.

The man raised an eyebrow. "If you so wish; however, I believe that a few others have called first shot at that. I shall be sure to notify them of your preference." Harry's eyes widened as that statement processed through his head. He struggled to sit up so he could strangle the man. By the time Harry had managed to get himself up on his elbows, the Death Eater was already at the door. "Please try to not injure yourself intentionally. It would be a shame." With that last remark, he threw a bright blue spell at Harry and slid the door closed.

Harry heard the sound of the locks closing before the spell hit. Pain lashed through his nerves, seared his already raw body, and he blacked out.

* * *

? ~ Captured

It had been at least several months since Harry had been captured. He couldn't tell how long. At first he had tried to count the days by the movement of the sun outside his window and tallies marked on the wall, but within the first few weeks of his imprisonment the Death Eaters had removed both the window and the bed from the room, plunging it into spell-light controlled darkness. Harry now slept when they cut the lights and woke when they seared them back to brightness. The sheer disorientation he often felt left him with the impression that the lights were _not_ on a proper schedule and were instead controlled by whim.

The bed had been replaced with a pallet of rough straw covered with the thin blanket from the bed - which quickly got even thinner from the straw. Rough, pointed ends poked through the fibers and scratched at Harry whenever he tried to lay on the pallet. Eventually he gave it up as a lost cause and stole the blanket to lay on the stones instead. It left his hips and shoulders sore after only a few hours, but it was better than the feeling of being bitten by invisible bugs all night long.

The Death Eaters had also deemed his wrist restraints too light of a leash and added a set around his ankles not long after his bed disappeared. The chains from these cuffs, the same as the ones on his wrists, trailed along the floor for a few feet before disappearing seamlessly through the floor.

Some poking and prodding at the stone where the chains disappeared revealed the stone to be solid despite the ease with which the chain slid through it when the proper spell was cast the spool Harry down tight to the floor.

Except for quick glimpses in the halls, Harry hadn't seen Voldemort since that one Death Eater meeting shortly after he had been captured. Instead, each time he was dragged out, the eloquent Death Eater - who Harry finally learned was called Gray - escorted him to his destination. It seemed he was the new favorite toy for the Death Eaters, and anyone could have him in whatever way they pleased as long as Harry lived to see the next day. Harry felt his eyes burn at the memories, but he had long ago used up any tears he may have shed over his condition. A blink and his eyes were dry and clear.

Harry didn't bother to look up as his cell door was open. "Little dove, how are you? It seems as if your wounds from last time are almost gone - delightful. Unfortunately Gibbon seems to have once again lost your meal for the day, so we'll simply have to make do with you as you are." The smile was obvious in the tone, even if Harry couldn't see the man's face.

'Speak his name, and the Devil shall appear,' Harry thought as Gray came over and levitated him with his wand, setting Harry back down in a standing position so they could speak to one another face to face - one of Gray's numerous quirks. The man's dark blonde hair was layered as carefully as ever around his sharp face, his shirt was pressed while the ruffles down his chest were carefully flared, and pale, near-bloodless lips smiled carefully below washed-out blue eyes.

Harry glared. "Why don't they just send Gibbon in for me to eat then?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Gray clicked his tongue against his teeth at the comment. "Please try and be civil. We are going to go and see someone special today." Harry lacked the energy to roll his eyes, otherwise he would. A swish and murmured spell had Harry's chains merging together into the familiar manacle formation. Gray reached forward and grabbed Harry by the arm, pushing him into the blindingly bright hallway.

The Death Eater led him down a new hallway today and Harry watched as the yellow-green magic of the hallways closed in on him, as if sensing prey. It was harder than it used to be for Harry to watch the world through his mage vision; he thought it had something to do with the wards he could barely make out around the place sometimes. It also drained his energy quickly and made him feel sick if he watched the twisted magic around his prison for too long.

Gray stopped in front of a mid-sized wooden door down the fifth hallway they had entered. Harry could hear shouts and the sounds of breaking glass from the room behind it. "Carrow has decided to hold a party in celebration of his most recent acquisition," Gray explained to Harry - as if the teen really wanted to know. "You have been lovingly decided upon as the main entertainment. Please try and scream prettily for everyone Harry." The faintest brush of pressure at his lower back. "We all enjoy it so."

Then the door was opening, and Harry steeled himself as well as he could before being led into the large cafeteria-like room filled with Death Eaters. He was fully aware he wasn't going to be getting back to his own cell under his own power.

He gasped as the first Death Eater grabbed ahold of him and slammed his head into a row of mugs while laughing drunkenly.

* * *

? ~ Captured

While Harry had been unconscious and recovering from his exhibition for Carrow, Gray had apparently told Voldemort of his comment about Gibbon. The day he awoke, a dead body was thrown into his cell. Harry had recognized the now deceased Death Eater as one of the ones who had loved to torment him by bringing him rotten food. Clearly he was now expected to eat the man instead thanks to his stupid comment.

Harry had kicked the man to the far corner closest to the door and refused to touch it again. He may be being beaten and tortured, but he wasn't going to start eating _people_ for the sick enjoyment of his captors.

..::...::...::..

Three 'days' after Gibbon had been thrown into his cell, Harry realized that the Death Eaters weren't going to be giving him anything else to eat. No one entered his cell; no one walked down the hallway in front of it. Water showed up periodically in the 'night,' but that was it.

..::...::...::..

Five more 'days' and Harry had broken down. It had been eight days. Harry had chewed the inside of his lips and the sides of his fingers into a mess trying to keep from going near the dead body. It would have been different if it hadn't been there - if he hadn't known that eating the man could sate some of his hunger. He had gone longer at the Dursley's without food, but there hadn't been _anything_ to eat those times.

Cringing on the inside, he had crawled forward on numb legs to where the crumpled body was kicked into the corner. His hands were shaking and his throat was dry. He reached hesitant fingers, dry and cracked and only free of blood because Harry kept licking it off, to turn the man over.

Hating himself, Harry began to unbutton the man's robes to get at the softer flesh of his stomach where Harry remembered wolves always went first.

* * *

? ~ Captured

His humanity was being slowly pried away from him every day he was kept in the cell. His body ached for relief. The Death Eaters would heal him if they went too far in their play, but healing the breaks didn't mean his body forgot them. Fixing the damage would take more than spells and potions.

He longed for Sirius to show up and break him out of this hell. Several times, he thought he saw his godfather come busting through the door to rescue him, but each time he thought he was finally free, he awoke sweating and shivering, curled up in a corner. Other times he saw Ron and Hermione enter his cell, only to stand there cursing him for abandoning them. A few times he had even seen Malfoy come for him, but all he did was stand there and look at Harry as if he was a piece of meat for sale.

His hallucinations came and went according to whim, and Harry no longer trusted anything to be real unless he was in pain. Pain was a physical marker his mind either wouldn't or couldn't put together properly in his hallucinations; he could recall thinking about the fact such-and-such is broken and should hurt, but the fact it didn't would be a trigger to kick him out of the hallucination. He would wake vomiting and shaking and feeling his insides binding themselves tight to his spine, and he would struggle to remember what was fact and what was fiction before eventually giving up and sinking into the pain as a means to anchor himself to reality.

Harry could almost physically feel his sanity stretching.

* * *

? ~ Captured

The day finally came where Voldemort called him back into the worn throne room.

Pushing himself as close to upright as he could manage after being shoved on his knees, Harry watched as Voldemort stepped smoothly forward to stand before Harry. He caught sight of Lucius and Bella standing next to the throne in the same positions as the last time Harry had been in this room. Death Eaters, whom Harry could now identify much more quickly, were arranged in a semi-circle about the room.

His attention was forcibly shifted a moment later as Voldemort grabbed his chin and forced Harry's eyes to meet his own. "_Harry_," he said, drawing the syllables out into a hiss audible even through the Parseltongue translation. "_Surely you grow tired of this - this pain and childish resistance._" Voldemort stroked one of his abnormally long fingers across Harry's cheek. "_Do you not wish for this to end? I can do that for you, Harry._"

Leaning down, Voldemort pushed Harry's hair out of his face with a gentle sweep of his wand. "_Join with me, Harry. I can give you _everything_ you desire. Would you like sweets? Chocolate straight from Germany. Fruits coated with honey and powdered sugar. Or perhaps you would prefer something else? Gold and power are easily within my reach to hand down to you. You can be the one to take control and hurt those around you._" Voldemort's voice lowered and thickened. "_Get your revenge for what they have done to you._"

Those red eyes were boring into Harry's own, making it hard to think. His thoughts were slow and came to him through a fog. Furrowing his brow, he clenched his hands in his robes.

"_So simple, Harry_," he entreated, "_just_ s_ubmit to me. Accept my Mark and submit to me._" Another gentle caress of yew against Harry's scarred skin. It was a stark contrast to how his jaw was hurting from the tightness of Voldemort's hand on his chin.

'Why _have_ I been doing this?' Harry struggled through his mind, trying to remember. 'It hurts, why have I been doing this?' But... he wasn't supposed to submit. He didn't remember why at the moment, but it was important. Harry bit his lip; his eyes were still captured by Voldemort's furious and entreating red ones.

Harry carefully wet his lips and looked up at Voldemort. His hands were tight in the shreds of his robe, pushing the dark fabric against his shaking legs. It was stupid, but the angry, determined thoughts in his head were telling him that he wasn't going to bow; he wasn't going to submit. "_No._"

Voldemort frowned and tightened his grip against Harry's chin, causing the bones to protest. "_No?_"

Clinging to the same stubbornness that caused his body to heal again and again, that forced him to endure everything being done to him with only the thought there was no other choice, Harry echoed his previous reply, "_No._"

The red eyes before him clouded over instantly with rage. The wand that had been on his head was suddenly burning with the start of a spell; eyes widening, Harry jerked his head to the side - pulling Voldemort's hand with his chin out of sheer desperation - just as the spell was released. The burn of it scored his forehead and left the scent of burnt hair in its passing.

Tossing him to the floor, Voldemort screamed out a _Crucio_ at Harry. "_One more chance, boy! You have one more chance to submit to me!_" The enraged voice barely penetrated Harry's screams from the pain of the _Crucio_. It yelled about chances and power and magic.

By the time the curse was lifted, Harry was a gasping pile on the floor. His already weak body was unable to even stand now, and the shakes were visible to everyone.

"Gray," Voldemort snapped, summoning the Death Eater. "Take Potter to his new cell." The crack of his robes as he turned signaled the dismissal of all present.

Gray leaned down to eye Harry contemplatively. "Well, off we go." Magic pooled under Harry and lifted his damaged form off the floor to hang in mid-air where he could be directed with the flick of a wand. They exited the door in between two groups of other Death Eaters and turned left when they turned right.

..::...::...::..

Harry must have blacked out for a portion of his floating travels through the halls of his prison, because the next thing he knew, Gray was depositing him on the floor and magically welding his manacles to familiar chains on the floor.

Gray's eyes flicked to his as Harry glanced around his new 'room.' His body hurt everywhere, but Harry _needed_ to know what was going on around him right now. The older man smirked lightly as he tapped Harry's cheek to get his attention. "I do hope you enjoy your new accommodations here, little dove. I had quite the hand in designing the wards for it, and I made them especially for you."

The man then reached behind him and picked up something else. Harry tried to twist and see what it was, but Gray pushed his head back to the front and snapped something cold around his neck. The clink of a chain followed and Harry reached up to grasp at the new collar he had just been shackled with. His eyes widened involuntarily.

Gray stepped around Harry and walked a few paces away before turning to survey Harry's chained position. Even in the dim lighting, Harry was able to see Gray's pale irises become eclipsed by suddenly dilated pupils. "It looks beautiful on you, little dove."

Harry shrank back from the look in Gray's eyes. His fingers tightened helplessly against the metal; he already knew it would be like his other restraints. There would be no getting it off.

"_Oui, il a l'air parfait._" There was an almost reverent tone to the whispered words. Harry wasn't even sure he was supposed to have heard them. He planted his feet against the floor and pushed, trying to scoot across the floor without turning from Gray or taking his hands from his new collar.

The movements brought a gleam of laughter to Gray's eyes. Sweeping his hands outwards, the Death Eater retreated elegantly to the door. "_À bientôt_," he said with a parting wave and a smile. There was a teasing lilt to his smile that Harry didn't want to see, didn't want to think about. He buried his head in his knees and waited for the sound of Gray's footsteps to fade away beyond the hallway before he gave in and cried while falling into blackness.

(_Oui, il a l'air parfait._ - Yes, it looks perfect.)

(_À bientôt._ - Goodbye for now.)

* * *

? ~ Captured

Harry quickly learned that the new manacles and collar were very different from his previous set of shackles. Gray had mentioned wards the night he had brought Harry into the new cell, but the teen had been too in shock over the addition of the collar to think to that the wards were on more than perhaps the door or walls.

Gray had done much more than that though. There were wards engraved in the metal of each of the cuffs. They blocked his magic. Completely. Gray had told him once, in between Harry's muffled screams, that wards were a specialty of his. Harry believed him. It was now impossible to access any of his magic; including his mage sight which he had strived to maintain even in its limited form.

An unintended positive side effect of the magical bindings was the cessation of visions from Voldemort. Gray had managed to ward Harry even from his own mind's magic. Though that also meant that every time they cut him, cursed him, or beat him bodily against a wall the pain felt twice as bad as he was used to. Harry considered the pay-off worth it, though. An end to watching Voldemort's sick fantasies play out in real-time in exchange for a few moments of added pain before his body passed out or the Death Eaters healed him.

* * *

? ~ Captured

Harry was being moved to a new cell again. He assumed it had something to do with stabbing Avery in the dick with shards of the broken glass Harry was being forced to kneel in at the time. Rookwood had told Avery the other man had it coming while laughing and shoving Harry onto the ground, continuing on with his own entertainment without regard to the bleeding and screaming Death Eater.

Gray wasn't happy with the move. He never said anything outright to disagree with it, but the eloquent Death Eater had been his most common visitor since his imprisonment, allowing Harry to pick up on his more subtle moods. Apparently Harry was supposed to be above wherever they were moving him to.

It wasn't necessarily an encouraging thought when one recalled what Gray considered appropriate for Harry.

* * *

? ~ Captured

Harry cried out as he was shoved back into the windowless cell that had been his home for the past few months, maybe even years. The days between wakeful agony and nightmare filled comas blurred together in a mesh of pain and suffering. His shoulder struck the cold stone floor and he bit back a cry. He had gotten very good at swallowing his screams now.

His guard laughed at him and slammed the door, adding to the already pounding sound of his blood in his ears. Whimpers issued from the other prisoners in the cells across from his before the silencing wards were reactivated as the guard left the area.

Harry hated the silence more than anything. It suffocated him. His cell was darkness solidified and the silencing spell kept him from hearing anything, including himself. He frequently lost himself, wondering if he was dead or alive, unable to tell the difference.

Then the spell would break. He would hear the prisoners across from him. The door to his cage would squeal across the floor and he would be dragged by his arm to provide yet more entertainment for his captors.

He coughed up what was most likely blood onto the floor, feeling the slickness against his chin as it dripped but unable to actually hear or see it fall.

Carefully, he slid himself towards the wall. It was always worse when he only had the floor for support. His fingers brushed against the cool touch of stone after only a few moments of crawling, and Harry rolled over to press his back against it. The stone began to draw the heat from his small frame, but he didn't dare to move from his pseudo-corner in case his lost himself in the darkness. His mind spun in circles as he tried to remember facts that he could use to anchor himself.

Slowly he began to repeat his name in his mind, moving his lips in time with the soundless words accompanying the mantra. Then, what he could remember of his life at Hogwarts. Events from his youth tumbled from his lips. He couldn't hear the words, but he kept saying them. He didn't care if Voldemort and his Death Eaters raped every other part of him, he wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of taking his identity away.

He shivered again as the walls leeched his body heat from him. The silence pressed upon his mind. He curled into a ball and clenched his hands into fists. The pressure was real: another anchor.

He finished reciting what he could of his third year and started on fourth year with a silent sob. He held off the urge to scream, knowing somewhere in his mind that it would only push him further over the edge. His tongue stuck on the name Cedric, but he forced himself through it.

'Will this never end?'

Fourth year was finished being recited, and he began on fifth year. His body was already shaking with mental pain.

* * *

? ~ Captured

The door to his cell creaked open, and Harry backed against a wall, arms crossed in front of him.

"Shhh, little dove," Gray called out as he walked into the fetid room. "We have a special surprise for you." It was strange how Gray always used the plural in reference to the Death Eaters. Harry knew Gray held no feelings for them besides perhaps contempt. He would whisper of treachery and punishments in a breathy voice when he was inside Harry - combining his love of spewing his own accomplishments with violating Harry in the sick man's way of "brining them closer together."

Gray threw a spell at the stones below him, and Harry was dragged across the ground as his chains were wound through the floor. His limbs were stretched spread eagle, and his neck ached from the angle the collar held it at. He felt one of the bones in his arm pop as the chains pulled him apart from each end.

"You get to get cleaned up today to meet with our Lord. Aren't you happy?" Gray's thin fingers trailed across Harry's flesh. "You have healed nicely since our last time together. Are you sure you can't access you magic? No?" The Death Eater watched emotionlessly as Harry whimpered and strained against his bonds. "Really, Harry," he said, an air of exasperation present even though his face remained blank. "You have the most extraordinary talents. Why not allow them to be used?"

A jerked wave of his wand had Harry's chains snapping violently out of their holes to weld themselves together, dragging Harry's arms upwards with the force of their attraction. The long chain from his collar was sent spinning through the air to pool at the base of his neck and trail to rest on his bony chest.

Gray reached down and lifted the leash, letting his fingers linger against shivering skin. "Even now, you manage to excite me, my dove." He pulled hard on the long chain and forced Harry to his feet by his neck.

The boy shivered as he was led into the hallway. Gray started talking again as they began the trek to the dilapidated throne room. "Now, please be reasonable Harry. This is your last chance before our Lord lifts the restrictions he has on us. Based on your previous performances, I would venture to say that you have a slight disagreement with our treatment. I would not recommend giving our Lord a chance to give us free reign." Gray jerked Harry up beside him as he stopped for a moment in one of the hallways.

There was a shadowed archway leading off somewhere a few steps ahead, and Harry focused his gaze there as Gray turned around. Warm fingers alighted on Harry's cheek, giving a gentle caress. Harry kept his face blank as he felt revulsion coil deep in his stomach. "I am saying this for your own safety, _petite colombe_. You have far from seen the worst of me."

Harry kept his gaze pinned around the Death Eater and on the archway.

Without warning, Gray curled his fingers and pulled his hand back sharply. Four parallel cuts opened on Harry's face. "_Regardez-moi_, Harry," Gray said, steel in the foreign words.

Harry felt blood running down the side of his cheek from the wounds, but kept quiet. Revulsion stirred in his stomach again. He heard Gray sigh, and imagined the man was likely frowning at him now. "Very well. You shall make your own decision, as always."

They reached the room quickly after that. Voldemort was once again sitting in his throne at the head of the room. His robes seemed more voluminous than previously, but they couldn't hide the tension around his reptilian eyes as they stared at Harry. Death Eaters were rallied around the room in droves. It seemed as if every Death Eater Harry had ever seen in the halls over his imprisonment was present for this meeting. Harry felt his mind begin to detach and wander as he attempted to separate himself from his body. If it came to a duel, Harry would lose due to simply having no mental focus to speak of at the moment. But this wasn't a duel. It was going to be a death sentence.

"Nott, get the boy a glass of water." Voldemort commanded. A man to the left of Harry bowed and waved his wand, summoning something from another room.

Harry watched warily as Nott approached him with a clear glass of something. They had done this before, the Death Eaters, only instead of water they had substituted Veritaserum. He had been left a babbling lunatic for days on end, spewing everything that came into his mind directly out of his mouth. Voldemort had been furious when he finally learned about it and ordered an antidote immediately. Veritaserum was expensive, and the idea had cost Voldemort a substantial portion of his stores and nearly killed Harry from an untreated overdose that had began to slowly dissolve his nerves. Harry had been given another dead body in his cell instead of meals after that.

Harry saw Voldemort watching him as he eyed the glass before him carefully. He clenched his hands against his legs, wary.

"Do not worry Harry. They will not poison you yet."

The yet stood out in Harry's mind. It was a clear threat of what would happen if Harry refused him a third time. Hesitantly, Harry unclenched a hand and reached for the glass of water.

That was when the hall exploded. Screams rent through the air, and Death Eaters were suddenly flying around the room.

Harry felt his body jump, and adrenaline flooded his system. Heat was burning through his veins, making him gasp. Heart beating double-time and blinded by the explosion, Harry instinctively tried to run. A solid pull against his neck brought him up short and delivered the realization that Gray still had a hold on his chain leash.

Voldemort was screaming orders to the Death Eaters as loud explosions sounded around him. "Gray! Get Potter to your secondary enclosure! Let no one past you save myself. Take Dolohov and Yaxley with you."

Blinking quickly, Harry tried to clear his head of the painful fuzzy feeling permeating it. His eyesight cleared enough for him to see the Dark Lord standing directly in front of him, staring at a face above Harry's own. His red eyes seemed to be glowing. A glowing translucent shield behind Voldemort's back bounced a bright yellow spell back into the glowing chaos of the throne room.

Harry gasped when he caught sight of the melee in the main chamber. Pain exploded in his head, and he dropped to his knees. Glowing lights and auras surrounded everything and seared themselves into his brain as he stared wide-eyed at the battle.

Voldemort jerked his head down to stare at Harry as he continued to pant. His brow furrowed. Another explosion rocked the building, forcing him to twist quickly to erect another barrier. "He leaves the enclosure by any means and you die," he spat as he quickly left Harry and Gray in order to enter the fray directly.

The two Death Eaters he had named off earlier appeared almost instantly beside Harry after that. As Gray pulled him up by his leash, all three of them grabbed onto him and twisted quickly on their heels. Harry felt his vision swim as the psychedelic swirls of apparition twisted around him in a seething mass. He briefly glimpsed the brightly glowing form of Remus Lupin before the magic wrapped its iron bands around his chest and whisked him away.

..::...::...::..

The Death Eaters apparated several times. They stopped only long enough to allow Harry to throw up and for them to move several blocks away from each exit point before they were spinning away again. Each time they landed Harry felt as if his insides were permanently squeezed that much tighter upon themselves. Between the magic and his already injured body, Harry felt as if he was on the brink of being squeezed so tight he would simply implode.

Eventually Gray deemed it safe enough, and he ordered them to apparate to the secondary enclosure.

The four of them landed in the middle of a sloping field. Harry's leash was handed to the other blonde man in the group. Harry stumbled at the sudden change of direction but thankfully appeared to be through throwing up for the time being. His head was a seething, burning mass of pain; he could feel his limbs tingling unpleasantly as if they had been asleep so long they had forgotten they were attached to his body.

He dared to hope about what he thought was happening and forced a blank expression on his face. He couldn't afford to let Gray, or any of them, know.

"Now. Let's go." The words were short, clipped, and offered none of the usual elegant roundness that Gray normally had in his speech. Yaxley dragged him forwards toward a small house that Harry could have sworn wasn't there before.

Harry concentrated, brow furrowing. It was like remembering the steps of Cat's Cradle when you hadn't done it in years; a peculiar twist of appendages that was both foreign and familiar which allowed threads to flow into new patterns.

A quick glance before he was shoved unceremoniously through the main door showed the building ringed with wisps of twisted green magic, and a large shimmering dome hanging over the sloped field.

Harry bowed his head and smiled for the first time in a long while.

(_Regardez-moi_, Harry. - Look at me, Harry.)

(_petite colombe_ - littledove)

* * *

? ~ Captured

When Harry awoke after passing out upon entering the strange new house, it was to a gilded room full of silk and velvet. He was resting on a bed that could fit five of him and lying on top of sheets that felt like water against his skin. The wainscoting running along the walls was rimmed with gold that trailed in intricate patterns up the walls. The sheer opulence of the room set warning bells screaming across his mind. Pushing past his remaining lethargy and pain, he pulled his limbs tight to himself and shifted to sit wedged into the corner.

The door on the far end clicked open mere moments after Harry had managed to get himself into the corner, and he was grateful he hadn't decided to do more than shift to where he did. A familiar form stepped through the door - a thick, solid affair, Harry noted - and let it click shut behind him without a backwards glance. Burning heat flared through him, stinging like little needles through his veins.

"Welcome to _my_ world this time, little dove."

An absent flick of his wand, and the older man pulled Harry forward. Harry's startled gasp went unnoticed as he was forced to the edge of the bed so his legs dangled over the end. Gray stepped closer and into the free space between Harry's legs. Harry immediately tried to scramble backwards, but Gray reached out and locked a hand around one of Harry's wrists - free of metal - and held him in place. Harry froze, wanting so bad to push at the hand wrapped around his wrist but not daring to after he caught sight of pale blue eyes and bloodless lips twisted into amusement.

Gray ignored Harry's reaction and reached out to trace one long finger down the younger boy's cheek. "I'm sure you've realized over your time with us that I prefer to do things differently than the others in our association." He shook his head and gave a melancholy sigh. "Such short-sighted fools, most of them. They simply take, take, take without any thought at all." Gray leaned closer to Harry, a mockery of intimacy. The edges of his knuckles were now tracing the line his finger had made over Harry's cheek. "I much prefer to give, you see.

"Giving is a much harder art to master," Gray whispered, cheek to cheek now, "but so much more rewarding in the end." His breath was ghosting over Harry's skin, causing the teen to tremble. "Do you not agree?"

Harry shivered in response to the soft words. He had to fight to keep the tears from threatening his eyes, leaving them burning behind his closed eyelids instead. Out of all of them, Gray had always scared him the most. Avery would just straightforwardly tear into him with whatever curses or hexes or blunt objects were nearby whenever he saw him, Dolohov would tie his body into knots of intricate pain with spells and things Harry had never heard of, Macnair would force him to degrade himself in humiliating ways so he could get off on Harry's responses, Carrow would get drunk and use Harry like he was nothing more than a meat sack when he wasn't too busy planning torturous mishaps, Nott would curse him with an almost casual air of one joining in out of habit and amusement not anger, and the others... all of them were understandable, predictable. They caused pain and humiliation for their own amusement and they tortured him mercilessly, but Gray... would always do strange things.

He would use the softest of voices and endearments no matter what he was doing to Harry. He would alternatively hand feed him and force him to expel everything he had eaten through a variety of means. He would pull acid through Harry's veins and whisper encouragement at Harry's screams. Gray would indulge Harry's every whim in the most twisted way possible - breaking him, terrifying him of his own ability to speak, and leaving him constantly on edge. There were times when Harry was with Gray that Harry wasn't sure who he was anymore.

Gray's tongue licked a trail along the edge of his cheekbone to the bottom edge of his ear where he drew the flesh into his mouth and bit down hard. The gasp and mild keen the pain caused only seemed to amuse Gray; the other laughed as he turned to place open mouth, bloody kisses along Harry's jaw.

"_Dois-je vous donner le désespoir_?" The words were murmured against his skin, but Harry heard them clearly, even if he didn't understand them. It didn't matter; they wouldn't mean anything good for him no matter what was being said.

"_Non,_" Gray said, biting Harry's jaw between his teeth for a moment. "_Le désespoir est trop simple, trop grossier_."

Gray's breath ghosted back across Harry's ear and licked at the edge he had bitten earlier. He gave a sudden little gasp of delight. "_Ah, j'ai juste pensé à un cadeau idéal pour vous,_ _petite colombe! Je vais vous donner l'agonie. N'est-ce pas son parfait?_ "

There was a lilt to the end of his speech: a question. Harry shivered in response, and Gray laughed. "_Oui, je le croyais aussi_."

(_Dois-je vous donner le désespoir_? - Shall I give you despair?)

(_Non. Le désespoir est trop simple, trop grossier_. - No. Despair is too simple, too uncouth.)

(_Ah, j'ai juste pensé à un cadeau idéal pour vous,_ _petite colombe! Je vais vous donner l'agonie. N'est-ce pas son parfait? - _Ah, I have just thought of the perfect gift for you, little dove! I shall give you agony. Does that not sound perfect?)

(_Oui, je le croyais aussi_. - Yes, I thought so too.)

* * *

**A/N:** Gray Valois is not a canon character, but all the other Death Eaters are (including the dead Gibbon).

One reviewer expressed a wish to know more in-depth about Harry's suffering at the hands of the Death Eaters. While I don't have an issue with writing exceedingly graphic content, I have attempted to refrain from anything too explicit here and stick mainly to allusions and quick notations.

If the urge comes or people wish me to, I may post a separate side-series on AO3 with more detailed entries of Harry's time with Gray and/or the others. Feel free to add your input to this as torture porn/extreme gore is a genre I tend to not write unless someone requests it.

Reviews are love.

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	7. Chapter Three: Vale of Tears

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: Please note date marker. It has been two years since Harry's capture.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised February 2013.**_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Vale of Tears**

* * *

April 9, 1998 ~ Number 12 Grimmauld Place

Snape watched through hooded eyes as various members of the Order railed at Dumbledore. The Headmaster had just informed everyone of the outcome of the latest raid on Voldemort's forces. It appeared as if Potter had been at the latest site when the assault was launched. Before anyone could get to him however, three Death Eaters had apparated away with him between them.

Lupin was upstairs crying in the room he had claimed. The idiotic wolf was angry and lashing out at everyone who came near. He apparently considered it _his fault_ his cub had been kidnapped. Snape kept himself from sneering and tilted his head to the right to avoid a flailing Nymphadora Tonks. He swore Dumbledore put him beside the woman just to watch him squirm.

"But Dumbledore! How are we supposed to help the boy if he's never here? At this rate, how can we-"

"Molly." Dumbledore's voice cut through the commotion and stopped the woman from saying anything else. Snape noticed how Dumbledore's eyes were narrower than normal. "At the time of the raid we had no idea that Harry was being held there." The Headmaster's eyes seemed to twinkle gravely. "The point of the raid was to disrupt Voldemort's plans and attempt to capture some of the higher ranking Death Eaters. Which," he emphasized, "we succeeded in doing."

The youngest boy Weasley then stood up and pointed his finger in Snape's direction. "Well maybe he should have told us where Harry was!"

Snape let the sneer he had been containing bloom over his face. "If you feel you can pry the Dark Lord's own secrets from his mind, you may join his ranks yourself." He could feel the side of his neck heating up and tried to repress the urge to exterminate the gangly specimen of supreme inanity.

"Severus, I'm sure Ron didn't mean to be insulting." Snape looked up as he felt a weak glare directed at his head. Arthur Weasley was holding his wife back as she attempted to leap over the table. He was also the one who had issued the placation. Snape let one of his eyebrows raise slightly. He had always thought that the man had more sense than his wife did. The younger Weasley was opening his mouth again, but Snape saw Granger lean over and elbow him in the stomach.

"Dumbledore?" A man at the end of the table spoke up.

'Ah, Kinglsey. Ever the peacemaker,' Snape thought to himself as he allowed his sneer to relax into something, slightly less infuriating.

The large black man waited until the Headmaster had acknowledged him before he continued, "Do we have any idea where Harry Potter was taken after the attack?" Everyone immediately turned to look to Dumbledore for an answer.

'Just like sheep. Well trained sheep.' Snape's sneer threatened to burst back in full-force. 'Does no one in this entire bloody Order know how to think for themselves?'

Dumbledore sighed dramatically, and Snape felt his eyes begin to roll. "Unfortunately, although the Aurors were able to trace several of the apparitions, they lost the trail somewhere in Ireland after the fifth disapparition.

"It would seem Voldemort's followers are beginning to learn from their own mistakes." Dumbledore then branched off and began to outline a plan for the Order's next attack.

Snape let his eyelids fall a shade further down; he settled back to contemplate his current position. Dumbledore was losing faith in the information he was bringing. He had barely escaped being marked by the man after their last meeting due to a sudden raid on Hogsmeade; Snape doubted he would be lucky enough to avoid the Headmaster for much longer.

His place in the Dark Lord's forces was also uncertain. Despite Weasley's conviction that he knew every move the Dark Lord made, Snape could honestly say he had had no idea Potter would be at the Death Eater meeting taking place on the night of the raid. That fact bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Another strange fact was that from the descriptions the Order fighters had been able to give, Gray Valois was likely the Death Eater who had been holding onto Potter as soon as the attack started. Valois was a wizard just shy of being outright psychotic with too much interest in werewolves and obscure wards for Snape's comfort. The few times he had been forced to work with the other Death Eater on projects, he had been alternately disturbed and awed by the way the man's mind worked. He had also been put on edge enough that he now actively avoided the other when he could get away with it.

Snape mentally ran through the potions he had been required to make in the last year for Valois. The list didn't give him any confidence in Potter's mental state when they finally found the boy. Especially based on the amount of nutrient and arousal potions he had been forced to make for the insufferable man. Snape cursed himself mentally for not paying more attention to what the man had been asking for; he had simply dismissed it as Valois having fun with his werewolf acquaintances again.

Granger had also noticed Dolohov in the group of three who had apparated away with the boy. While no Valois, Dolohov was a mean duelist capable of non-verbal magic with a cocky streak the size of the Thames. Snape had no doubt that Dolohov had been sent with the boy as a heavy hitter in case anyone managed to follow them.

He hadn't been able to get a good description of the other Death Eater attached to the apparition party. Blonde, "looked Dark," and "wearing a black robe" wasn't very helpful when dealing with Death Eaters. The likely candidates were Carrow, Yaxley, or Rowle.

Carrow was an idiot, but he knew his way around the Dark Arts well enough to be a problem. He also had the annoying habit of throwing his own spells right behind someone else's in order to mask his signature and catch an opponent off guard. Most of his own attacks were straightforward, but he became a problem in a group battle. Yaxley was as smooth a talker as Valois could be, and last Snape had heard he had been sent to snoop around the DMLE for a future insertion - which meant he might have an upperhand on evasion tactics. Rowle was another heavy hitter like Dolohov; he was capable of nonverbal magic and had a magical core strong enough to blast a giant around if he needed to. None of the options were good, but Snape was leaning to either Yaxley or Rowle being the one sent with Potter. Carrow had been on Voldemort's bad side for a while now due to some sort of potions misuse, and likely wouldn't have been trusted with something as important as the transport and protection of Harry Potter.

Without more information, he was left assuming the worst of having both Yaxley _and_ Rowle with Potter in addition to Dolohov and Valois. The next rescue mission would be extremely dangerous, and all of the Death Eaters he figured were guarding Potter had decent Occlumency capable of keeping Snape from reading their thoughts in order to get a new location.

That was also assuming Harry Potter was in a condition to be rescued after Valois had been sinking his perverted claws into him for over a year.

His attention returned to the meeting as Dumbledore thanked everyone and dismissed them for the night. He didn't worry about missing anything important. He was never assigned to the raid teams, and he would pick anything else important out of the others' thoughts.

Dumbledore, the manipulative coot, was motioning him over to his side of the room. Snape arranged his face into something not overly insulting and reinforced his mind blocks. There was no need to let the Headmaster know anything he had just realized.

"My boy," Dumbledore began, "did you truly not know young Harry's whereabouts the other night?" His blue eyes bored into Snape's, bringing with them wisps of Legilimency.

"No, Headmaster. I have not been privileged with information involving Potter's imprisonment." Snape allowed random thoughts of his dislike for the boy and his recent Death Eater meetings to seep through his shield in order to allow Dumbledore the comfort of thinking he still had more skill than his student. He also made sure to include a few snippets of various potion instructions to insinuate a bleed-through.

Dumbledore eagerly read all the information Snape allowed past his barriers. 'Like a spider.' The Potions Master imagined Dumbledore gathering the small threads up and weaving them into a larger picture titled "The Greater Good."

"That is truly disappointing Severus, my boy. Do try and get more information before the next Order meeting."

Snape kept his face impassive as Dumbledore exited the room. A simple question that smacked Snape directly in the face with Dumbledore's growing distrust in him, followed by a curt dismissal, and then an order to do better? Years of service against the darkest Lord imaginable, striving with careful machinations to keep from losing his own head while climbing a social ladder slick with blood, and that was what he got? His insides were seething, and his neck was burning again.

He clenched his hands into fists, digging his short nails into his calloused hands. 'I am not doing this for Albus Dumbledore,' Snape reminded himself. A memory of red hair and childishly large green eyes flitted through his barriers before he clamped down on his feelings and shoved everything behind a solid wall in his mind.

As soon as he could no longer sense the Headmaster's presence in the house Snape left the empty meeting room, idly picking the thoughts of the Order members who had yet to apparate from Grimmauld Place. Several thought they should simply abandon the boy and give up on the search. Others thought Potter had turned to the Dark Side, or that he been resurrected as a zombie for the Dark Lord's amusement. Snape snorted at the last idea. The young Order member who had been harbouring a serious contemplation of Potter's new zombie nature turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised. Snape glared. A smirk settle onto his face as the kid jumped and ran off.

He had finally reached the back reaches of the house where none of the other Order members dared wander and was turning down the hallway to the back stairs when he felt something collide painfully with his chest. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, shoving him up against the wall with a crack of plaster.

His eyes widened as he looked up in the very angry face of one Remus Lupin.

Snape kept himself from grimacing as the idiotic wolf put pressure on his shoulders, and asked in as calm a tone as he could manage, "What the bloody hell is your problem?" Unfortunately, the question came out as more of a hiss than a question and Snape's shoulder blades suffered for it. 'Stupid wolf. What's wrong with him now?' Snape thought angrily as he heard his collarbones creak slightly.

Lupin leaned forward and growled. "Where the hell is my cub, snake?"

Snape felt the blood start to rush to his face in indignity and scowled. "I don't know," he hissed, enunciating each word. "I figured your pathetic hearing could at least pick up that much over your own sobs." His voice was scathing, laced with the annoyance he felt at being held down.

Without warning, the wolf released him and backed away. "I'm sorry," the voice came out as a rasp and Lupin's shaky hands came up to grasp at his face. "I didn't mean to attack you like that…"

Snape, mindful of his back, carefully straightened his robes. The wolf obviously wanted something desperately enough to come downstairs to manhandle Snape despite an obvious emotional deficiency. Snape wasn't quite callous enough to just walk away without giving the other a chance to explain himself. He swore though, if he saw tears, he was leaving, possible injury be damned.

After a few moments, the man calmed down enough to lower his hands back down by his sides; Snape noticed his fingers curl inwards to grab at the rough hems of his sleeves. Lupin's eyes were still the wild gold of the wolf, but his breathing was slow and even. Snape raised an eyebrow.

Lupin chuckled hollowly. "Yes, in reference to your earlier question, I did pick that up. I also picked up on the fact that you know more than what you told Dumbledore."

Snape kept himself from reacting through sheer force of will. "What makes you so sure of that?" he drawled.

Gold eyes sharpened, pupils dilating in the low light. Lupin lifted one of his hands into the air and let it hover - palm open - a few inches in front of Snape's chest. "Call it instinct." The hand slammed forward, forcing Snape back against the wall again. "Now I will ask again, where is Harry?"

Snape scowled. "Has anyone ever informed you that you appear to have a rather severe case of bipolarism?" He was beginning to regret staying to listen to this; especially since his mind only _now_ remembered to chime in with the fact the full moon was tomorrow evening. Of course the wolf side would be closer to the surface during this time. Childhood fear lashed out in his mind, screaming at him to get away from the creature before him.

Lupin smiled at him, amused. "Actually no, but now that you mention it, I believe I might." Snape was seriously beginning to hate that smile despite this being the first time he had seen it. Remus flexed his fingers, forming wrinkles in Snape's robes, "However, that does not answer my question. Must I repeat myself again?" Remus had leaned forward slightly to whisper the last sentence, and his breath puffed across Snape's face. His voice was tinged with a dark humour and golden eyes seemed to reflect the pitiful candlelight around them into bright sparks.

Snape quickly had to re-evaluate his opinion of one Remus Lupin. It seemed the most recent loss of the Potter boy had caused a severe personality change in the man, and that this new personality was not afraid to use force to get his answers.

Snape straightened as well as he could while pressed up against a rotting wall by a determined werewolf and sneered. "Do not presume to think that I am of such low intelligence that you need to repeat yourself. I heard you quite clearly the first time." Sometimes Snape hated his initial reaction of snapping sarcastic comebacks, but as he saw the wolf raise an eyebrow at him and actually relax his fist slightly, he was glad of it. He leaned closer to the wolf until their faces were only a few inched apart. "If you wish anything of me, give me something worthwhile in return."

Lupin growled at him, eyes narrowing. "I want my cub back, snake. I know you can find him for me, and in return, I will give you the worthwhile favor of my silence about your true nature." The wolf stepped forward and leaned in to run his nose lightly across the fabric of Snape's collar. "I do believe you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Snape's breath caught in his throat and he cursed. 'Damn the wolf, damn his senses, and damn this meeting for falling on tonight and not a week later.' His fists clenched at his sides as he fought down the burning that was starting at the side of his throat. He felt the wolf chuckle lowly in amusement.

Golden hazel eyes shifted to bore into Snape's own. "Never underestimate how much Harry means to me, Snape."

Snape grit his teeth at the unstated threat and forced his voice out in as calm a tone as he could manage. "Fine. I will find your cub, Lupin, and in return, you keep your mangy trap shut about _my_ business."

Lupin released him and stepped back lightly. "I want him back, in one piece or not."

Golden eyes finally faded back into their normal hazel colour. "I just want him back," his voice broke on the last word, and Lupin turned and almost ran back up the stairs.

Snape stared after him, thoughts swirling in his head. He would need to talk to the Headmaster tomorrow about taking time off. In the meantime, he headed to the nearest fireplace to floo back home for some mild healing potions and a dose of Dreamless Sleep. Perhaps he would play for a while before going to bed.

* * *

April 13, 1998 ~ Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

Snape glanced up at the Headmaster through hooded eyes. He had wanted to talk to the man last Friday, but the Potions classroom had suffered a near-catastrophic accident involving a sixth year potions accident that melted a cauldron, three tables, and had blown a hole in the nearby wall. Snape had been apoplectic after sending the students caught in the backlash of the explosion to the Hospital Wing. The rest of the class had suffered through a scathing lecture that ran over into the next time block and then some.

The Potions Master had spent a good hour berating each and every student in the class, and seething with fury that someone from the so-called "smartest of the Houses" had decided to test a potion by adding unnecessary ingredients and injuring their classmates. He then assigned a sixty inch essay on the disastrous effects of meddling with potions before one understood _all_ of the underlying principles, along with another ten inches of how, if they had known before-hand that such an incident was going to happen, they would handle it in the future. The ones directly involved had been given a month of detentions with Filch and suspended from practical Potions exercises until further notice. The entire thing left a sour taste in the back of Snape's throat.

He declared the room unsuitable and too hazardous for use, cancelled his remaining classes for the day, and then spent the rest of Friday and all of Saturday cleaning the room and ensuring it was properly sanitized of any ill-effects. The tedious task left him cranky and irritable, and when Minerva informed him that the Headmaster had gone to a meeting early Sunday morning for some ridiculous reason or another, Snape had thrown his hands in the air, stalked back to his quarters for a glass of sherry, and declared himself done with the day.

Now it was Monday, and the Headmaster was being more infuriating and twinkly than normal in Snape's eyes.

"I see no problem in allowing you a few weeks off, Severus; just be sure to return in time for the OWL and NEWT reviews in June." Blue eyes twinkled merrily behind half-moon spectacles. "Would you mind if I asked what this is about?"

Snape felt a delicate probe against his Occlumency barrier and allowed his preplanned thoughts of a potions conference in Spain to seep through. He kept the conference references purposely vague and fuzzy, as if he wasn't actually feeding the lies to the Headmaster. He also allowed his newest potion idea to spark out, a bright spot interlaced with feelings of pride and arrogance that wrapped around the false image of the conference. "I just wanted to check on a new recipe I recently heard about," he said, feigning a nonchalance that juxtaposed the emotions he coated his mind with. Snape was nothing if not thorough.

He kept his smirk to himself as he saw Dumbledore readily swallow the information, incorrectly assuming that Snape wanted to show off his newest creation and scope out potential challengers to his idea. "Ah, knowledge is always a rewarding pursuit, my boy." Albus leaned back with a smile, and motioned to a small bowl on the edge of his desk. "Lemon drop?"

Snape shook his head. He knew what the Headmaster laced his favorite Muggle candy with, and he wanted no part of it. Dumbledore nodded and popped a sweet in his own mouth.

Assuming the meeting was over, and that he could retreat to his office to begin making plans, Snape placed his hands on the overly plush armrests of his chair and made to standup when Dumbledore stopped him with a raised hand. Looking at the fading smile on Dumbledore's face, Snape felt a foreboding sort of dread curl in his stomach and tingle against his neck.

"Severus, my boy," Dumbledore's countenance was now clearly troubled. The old man's head fell towards his chest with a deep sigh. Snape clenched the armrests tight in his hands. "It pains me to say this, but I have spent much time in contemplation over the latest news about Harry." Snape's stomach gave a violent lurch and he barely kept from frowning.

Another deep sigh from Dumbledore as the man raised his head to look at Snape with grave eyes. "After reviewing the pensive memories provided by the various Order members and the other evidence collected so far, I have come to the conclusion that, for the greater good, Harry must die while still in Voldemort's hands; the easiest way would probably be for you to poison him." The words preluded a rather violent probe against Snape's Occlumency barriers that he instinctively blocked - only belatedly realizing to send out a few streamers of faint emotion to occupy Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's eyes were narrowed slightly as he observed Snape's reaction. Drawing his usual persona tight around himself, Snape painted a sneer across his face. "Not that I particularly disapprove of ridding the world of the brat, but wouldn't the media have a field day with the death of the Chosen One?" The sarcasm on the last words was heavy.

Dumbledore slowly moved his candy from one side of his mouth to the other, playing up the dramatics and watching Snape's reaction. "It would be far more tragic for Harry Potter to turn against us because of brainwashing and torture, then for Harry Potter to die by Lord Voldemort's hand. Think of it as a mercy killing, Severus. Harry Potter will not be able to return to us."

With those words, Snape was already able to envision the tale that the manipulative old man would spin to the press. The conniving bastard had also managed to word his _request_ in such a way as to get around Snape's Unbreakable Vow concerning Harry. His lips thinned as actual rage began to simmer in him. 'Not all that glitters is gold,' he thought harshly.

Shoving all of his actual thoughts behind a mental barrier which not even the Dark Lord had managed to locate yet, Snape allowed feelings of trust to seep out from his outer shields, relaxing them at a slow rate as if he was becoming compliant to the Headmaster's will. "I am not allowed to know Potter's location. It will be difficult for me to accurately poison a subject when I have no idea which potions are his."

Dumbledore gave a gentle smile, eyes twinkling, and withdrew his mental probe. "I'm sure you will figure something out."

Snape gave a brisk nod as he finally stood. Twisting sharply, he headed for the door of the Headmaster's office with his teaching robes flaring behind him. It opened by itself once Snape was a step away, and the Potions Master descended the revolving staircase without a word. It was only as the gargoyle finally curled on its pedestal behind him, that he allowed a vicious sneer to bloom on his face. His face was set into one of his fiercest glares, and his neck was burning. One spidery hand reached upwards to grasp at his collar as he stalked through the halls down to his quarters. 'How dare that man! Does he have no care about the souls he so recklessly plays with?' There was no time to go to his office and make more complete plans. If the Headmaster was already ordering the assassination of Harry Potter, than Snape had to move quickly. His inner thoughts were spewing vitriol across his mindscape, but Snape would worry about sorting everything in his head only _after_ he had left the grounds.

Mind spinning, he grabbed items on automatic and thrust them into his travel pack. Years of packing for sudden meetings left Snape with an ingrained muscle memory of what to pack in an emergency. Shoving the last of his supplies into the canvas bag, he shrunk it and left his room in one smooth motion. Long strides carried him quickly out the main doors and down the path to the edge of the Hogwarts apparition wards.

He had a task to accomplish - one that did not involve the murder of Harry Potter - and right now he had to go beg the assistance of a certain individual he had abandoned seventeen years ago. Snape only hoped the other heard him out before killing him.

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews are love!

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	8. The Case of Severus Snape

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: Please note the date marker, as it is now 1978 (the year after Snape graduates from Hogwarts to give you some reference).

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised February 2013.**_

* * *

**The Case of Severus Snape**

* * *

September 5th, 1978 ~ My Back Pages Bookshop, London

Severus Snape glared deeply at the bookshelf in front of him. How long had he been standing in this same place, staring at the same titles and numbers? With a well-aimed glare, he turned to the books behind him. They all seemed just as pointless and useless.

'Honestly, who needs this many books on baking cakes?' He thought, wanting to slam his head repeatedly into the books he was searching.

The man overseeing his mastery training had sent him on this gods forsaken mission for an advanced potions book he had _misplaced_. To his utter frustration, the Muggles at the front desk had no clue where 1,001 Uses of Honeysprout was, or even as to what he was referring to. A sneer pulled at the corners of his lips. Damn the old man for hiding it here in the first place.

He heard someone else enter the cooking section as well but didn't bother to look up or pay any attention to the form at the end of the row. Muggles were swarming this place; even at a time like this, there seemed to be no stop to how many of them trickled in.

With a deep sigh, Snape dodged a group of teenage girls in the foreign books section, and hurried to the last area of the store he hadn't searched: the reference section. The room that the books were kept in was small, with no windows or ways out other than the door that stated 'Please Keep Closed. - Mgmt.'.

Snape let the door click shut behind him and sighed audibly again. The soft chatter and noise from outside the room disappeared, and Severus surveyed the room with a scowl. The place was empty, but it didn't look promising. Repressing another sigh, or perhaps a curse, Snape threw himself into his search.

He was half-way through the left wall when he heard a soft click. From his position on the floor he couldn't tell who had come in. He leaned up a bit to look over the badly placed study table in the middle of the room, but still couldn't make out a form. Snape narrowed his eyes but went back to his work.

'Damn Muggles,' he thought, shoving yet another book back into its rightful place.

So the search continued.

After a few minutes, Severus had completely forgotten about the other person in the room. So much so, that when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, he immediately dropped his book and jumped for his bag and the wand inside of it.

The commotion didn't seem to bother the older man, who continued to scan the titles on the back wall as if nothing had happened. Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. The tiles above him didn't hold the answer he was looking for so he sneered at them and angrily turned to the next book in the pile he had pulled out. It was yet another useless book on the foundation of the stupid library; he snapped shut it with a dull pop before shoving it back on the shelf and turning to start on the back wall.

Snape was half-way through the 'G's' when he noticed that the man hadn't moved. The darker skinned man didn't seem to be terribly interested in the seven titles he continuously read over, but he didn't make a move to look at any others. Snape narrowed his eyes again and looked the man over.

He seemed well dressed compared to the other Muggles in this part of town. The suit was Italian, he supposed, like the shoes. Severus spared his own trench coat and shabby pants a moment of thought with a frown before turning his attention back to the taller man. He wasn't as old as Snape had assumed earlier, and now it was clear he was only in his late-twenties or early-thirties.

Snape was so intent on looking him over, that he didn't notice the other man looking at him until it was too late. Deep brown eyes met his own black, and he found himself jumping away as if he had been struck. He slammed his back into the shelf behind him, which caused a few books to tumble past his shoulder.

"Dammit." He muttered to himself, more upset at losing his cool than anything else. He ducked to pick up the books, and sneered at the boots that worked themselves into his vision. He stood up and found his companion just a foot or so away. He could feel his heartbeat hammering in his ears as he tried to ignore his embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" The man's smooth Spanish accent sent barely noticeable shivers down Snape's back. Snape jerked around to face the bookcase and ignored the man, pushing the books back in random places. He would be damned if he was going to take the effort to put them back where they were _supposed_ to go.

The silence that followed the question made Snape uncomfortable. He glared at the bookcase; one hand lingered for a moment against the spine of the last book he had placed before he turned quickly back around. His glare met the same calmly blank face. 'I don't like this man...'

"I didn't mean to startle you." The other man kept his face carefully blank and offered no more than his words. Snape tried to pick up on his thoughts, but even the most basic thoughts seemed to be nonexistent. Snape narrowed his eyes just a fraction more and nodded an acknowledgement, hoping that would be the end.

'Something is _off_ about this man...' He thought, bending down to pick up his abandoned bag. He threw the strap over his shoulder and returned to the shelf he had abandoned with the hope that the man would take the hint.

He didn't. The other started speaking again, and Severus rolled his eyes. 'Annoying Muggle...'

"My name is Armand." The voice was even, but Severus's heart clenched unnaturally. Snape grabbed at his chest, unsure as to why his pulse had jumped. He began to mentally review potions ingredients in an attempt to calm the blood rushing in his head, but his normal trick appeared to have no effect against this man.

"I supposed I should care." Snape bit back dryly. He reached to the top shelf and read over the titles as his fingers ran across the golden etchings. His reply went unanswered, and Snape was almost sure that the man was going to leave him alone. He reviewed the last few minutes - all the embarrassing stunts he had pulled in the presence of the other man - and was sure that this 'Armand' fellow thought he was a bit of a loon.

Snape heard footsteps and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up before it occurred to him what was going on. Damn if this man wasn't persistent.

"Maybe I can help you look for something?"

Snape could feel his hands trembling from Armand's closeness behind him. He was surprised he could hear him at all over the heavy beating in his ears, but the calm voice reached him nonetheless.

He wasn't sure when it finally occurred to him what was going on.

Instinct kicked in, but the next moment found Snape frozen in place. The hand that had been searching for the potions book above him had moved to reach for the wand in his bag, but now it was in an icy, cold grip.

Armand was against his back, breathing evenly on his neck, and holding his wand hand tightly. Snape squeezed his eyes closed, and saw his short twenty years flash before his eyes. He had never stood a chance...

The deep, smooth voice coming from behind him made his throat constrict. "Once again..." Cool air tickled the back of his neck as the other spoke and Snape shivered in the older man's arms. He didn't want to imagine how close those lips were to his vein. "I didn't mean to startle you..." Snape felt like screaming, but Armand's voice never wavered.

Severus swallowed deeply and mustered up enough energy to whisper. "You're a vampire."

"You're a wizard." Armand whispered back, playfully into Severus's ear.

Severus turned his face away, and managed to find the will to tug at the hand being held above his head. "H-How did you know? How did you know that?" Not that he didn't already know the answer- even from his basic knowledge of vampires, he knew that Armand could smell it on him. 'Or is that werewolves?' He pulled at the hand again.

Armand didn't budge. "I'm sure the same way that you knew I was a vampire. You haven't told me your name."

Severus glared over his shoulder at his captor. The blank face looking back at him made the threat on his tongue disappear, and Severus found himself moving closer to the dark face hovering over him. Severus noticed the thin scar over Armand's left eye, the long brown ponytail currently coiled over his captor's shoulder, and the pierced ears before moving his gaze back to the eyes watching him. The deep chocolate eyes were full of some emotion; he wasn't sure right then what it was, but the part of him that would look over the situation later would know it was humor.

Armand moved back as Snape moved in, and the sudden loss of cold contact on his back had Severus reeling back to reality. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked back at the books in front of him. He debated screaming, but he knew that even if he tried, the Muggles outside probably wouldn't respond until it was too late.

"What... what makes you think I'm t-telling you my name?" He asked, voice shaking. He had to keep Armand talking until he could get to his wand, or until some unfortunate muggle wandered in to distract the vampire over him. Armand leaned in again and ran his nose over the back of Severus's neck. The cold sensation had Severus gasping, but as soon as it was there, it was gone.

'He ...he just smelled me!' Snape bit his tongue to keep the tears from burning his eyes. It was really happening. This was how he was going to die. This was how it was going to end.

Then his hand was slowly released and it dropped like dead weight to his side. He jerked it quickly back to his chest, using the motion as the start of a turn as he jumped around to face Armand once more. The vampire took a few steps back and leaned against the table. Severus couldn't stop shaking as he rubbed his cold fingers with his other hand.

"If only for proper introductions..." Armand said softly, the corner of his mouth turning up just the slightest. Snape remembered what he had been doing just a second ago and rushed to release the snaps on his bag. He fumbled with them, and Armand watched uninterested as the younger wizard pulled out his wand and pointed it at him.

Snape's hand was trembling and unsteady, causing the end of his wand to wave about slightly in the air. Armand reached out slowly, so as not to startle him; he touched the wand with his hand and lowered it just as slowly until the shaking wood was pointing to the floor. He said nothing, but Snape thought he saw something in Armand relax and uncoil once his wand was no longer aimed at the vampire.

Something about this vampire got under Snape's skin; he could tell though, if there was to be a fight between them, that he would stand no chance. The thought troubled him, but he ignored it and glared at the vampire instead. "You expect me to tell you what my name is?" He hissed, temper lost, "what, do you think I'm daft?"

Armand stared coolly back at the furious young wizard and, for the first time since Snape had met him, visibly smirked. "No, my jumpy companion, you are not daft. Forgetful, yes," He lowered his gaze to Snape's waist, eyes dancing with mirth. "But not daft."

Severus had lowered his own eyes to follow Armand's line of sight, fought back the urge to scream. "Fuck."

The old, worn out messenger pack on his side had 'Severus Snape' written in faded black ink on the front flap. He cursed more mentally. A belated jerk of the strap shifted the bag around his hip so it was hidden behind him. 'Not that it matters. That secret is out...' he thought, berating himself.

"You study potions."

Snape jerked his wand up and pointed it to the chest of the vampire again. It wasn't a question, but Severus prayed to whatever gods were watching over him that the man in front of him had blindly guessed. He barely stood a chance with the creature of the night as it was without him being physic as well.

"Is this what you were looking for?"

Severus sneered at the book in the vampire's hands, wishing nothing more than to see it in ashes. In all the excitement, he had forgotten the reason he was in the Muggle bookstore in the first place. Armand offered it to him, but Snape only straightened his wand hand, refusing to accept the vampire's gift. After a tense moment of wand vs. book, Armand laid the book on the table beside him.

"You should be more grateful to your friends." Armand finally broke the silence, smirk gone. The lack of expression had Snape mentally shaking again, but he kept his glare in place. "If I wanted you dead, you would be dead, my friend."

Snape lowered his wand hand but never took his glare away from the older man. He _knew_ that, knew it for a fact. But did the vampire really blame him? "You are not my friend." This got a chuckle.

"You don't have much of a choice." Armand pushed off the table and crossed to the smaller man. "Do you, _Severus_?" His name didn't sound like his own when the vampire spoke it. It held a distinct mirth and mystery behind it that he didn't recognize.

"If you think you can bully me into-" The threat died as the soft, cold hand grabbed his own again. Severus looked down in surprise, anger momentarily forgotten. One dark hand traced the pattern of his hand softly as the other one held it still. The barely-there touches made Severus shudder, but he couldn't take his eyes off the unusual sight of tan against pale.

Then suddenly, there was a card in his hand, and the soft touches were gone. Severus shook his head to try and clear it, looking up at Armand who stood hovering over him. Once again his face was unreadable, a fact that sent Severus's mind reeling. Armand locked eyes with him, and Severus felt the familiar signs of being trapped in a vampire's gaze return.

"If you ever need a place to learn and practice without the hindering gaze of your master, you know where to find me..."

With that, the vampire turned and left. Severus Snape did not attempt to stop him, or even move again until the door clicked softly closed. The thoughts in his head swarm, and his vision blurred, focused only on the small words on the front of the card in his hand.

'_Armand Lucien Farevello_'

* * *

December 17th, 1978 ~ Main Potions Lab, Armand's House, Spain

"I want you to be my apprentice."

Severus Snape paused with the vial in his hand tilted over the cauldron. He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly; he looked past the little glass vial to the older man across the room. Armand Farevello was involved in his own potion, not even looking at the wizard.

'I must have heard wrong.' Severus turned back to the potion in front of him, and the familiar silence stretched between them again. The statement was too blunt to be anything of Armand's, even if it had sounded as clear as day. There was a puff of smoke, and Severus took a step back to view the remains of the potion he had been attempting.

The ooze looked nothing like the advanced potion described in the book. He had a good feeling that "sickly green" was not even close to the "golden yellow" it was supposed to be. He sneered at the cauldron and threw down the rag he had picked up.

"I think I've done something wrong," he cursed, more to himself than to the Spaniard across from him. The silence returned, and Snape sighed deeply. 'Damn this book. Every trick I try is wrong...' He leaned down on his elbows above the book, staring at it.

Armand set down the bottle he had just filled with a soft tap and stood. Severus didn't have to look up to hear him crossing the room.

"Maybe I was too blunt earlier?"

"You, Armand? Never," Severus said sarcastically, glancing up only for a moment. Armand made his way to Severus's table and hovered over the agitated wizard, seemingly unfazed by Snape's remark. Snape rolled his eyes and looked back down at the book.

"I asked you a question earlier."

"You did?" Severus asked dryly, not looking up from his work. He wasn't used to the distraction of talking with the vampire during his research times, and it was starting to grate on his nerves.

"Yes, Severus." Hearing his name sent a small shiver down his spine, and he listened carefully to the rest of Armand's sentence; Snape had learned quickly that if the vampire ever used his name directly, he had better pay attention. "I asked you to be my apprentice."

Snape froze - all thoughts of potions and vials disappeared. Those seven words circled in his head for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he looked up at the vampire incredulously. "_What_?"

"Severus, I am quite confident you heard me." This was accompanied by the smirk that Severus had often seen over his two months with the Spaniard.

And like all the other times (even more so now), Snape wished nothing more than to jinx it off of his face.

"Armand, I have a potions master already," he said evenly, trying to control the anger that was radiating from him already. The scowl didn't budge. "I do _not_ need another, I assure you."

The dark haired man shook his head, disappointment showing in his normally dull eyes. "I didn't mean to offend, my friend, and I meant no disrespect. You have vast potential in potions..."

"You did not offend me, Armand." Severus looked back down at the book, properly chided. He did not want to be having this conversation, but as much as he wanted to end it, Armand seemed to have other plans.

The vampire continued as if he was never interrupted. "...but you know as well as I that those skills are wasted on _that man_."

That man. His potions master. The idiot that had been telling him for months that he "was just not getting it" and "wouldn't have a future". Armand spoke of him as if he shared Severus's hatred of the old man.

"Think about it, Severus, my friend."

* * *

December 21st, 1978 ~ Office, Armand's House, Spain

"Severus, I thought you had returned to your home for the holidays."

Armand looked over his reading glasses at the dark haired boy panting several feet away from him. Severus must have run the entire way from the portkey office in the city by the looks of him. His sweet smell reached the vampire even from that distance, and Armand shut off the part of his mind that wanted more. 'He has come for a reason. Wait,' he chided himself.

Snape took a deep breath to steady himself and let it out in a rush. 'I can't believe I'm agreeing to this.'

"I accept."

The silence that stretched between them seemed to last forever, and Severus frowned. Had Armand forgotten what he had asked of Severus already? Then, the vampire smiled. It was soft, completely different from the smirks to which Severus had grown accustomed. He could feel his cheeks heating up and his heart beat return to his ears.

"Thank you, Severus," Armand whispered, watching the younger wizard stomp off down the hallway and out the front door. How much nerve had he mustered up to come all the way back here to him and accept his offer? He could still taste that sweet smell; shaking off the thoughts that raced through his head, he returned to his book.

'Things will be much more interesting after Christmas.'

* * *

January 3rd, 1980 ~ Library, Armand's House, Spain

Severus Snape stared, open-mouthed, at the woman in front of him, unsure of what he had just heard. Both of his fists rested on the table before him, the only things keeping him from falling. "What do you mean I've been-"

"Offered a position as Potions Master, yes." The blonde smiled brightly, holding her clipboard tight to her chest. It took every ounce of will power Snape had not to sneer at her as she continued. "Well, it's only been two years, but your master has given you a wonderful recommendation."

"Master..." Severus muttered dazed, looking past the three representatives standing in front of him. Armand stood watching over them, face blank and eyes hidden due to the glare on his reading glasses. 'That pompous...'

"Yes! Oh, and of course, it's your choice, but I've never seen anyone turn down a position before now." The three shared a laugh, but Severus never took his eyes off the man leaning on the doorway.

They talked a bit more about the position and told him the specifics, but Severus blocked most of their chatter out. They left him the papers and departed as quickly as they had arrived, thanking his master on the way out. Armand walked them out, leaving Severus to his thoughts for a few more moments.

He heard footsteps approach again, and Snape lost his cool. "You weren't going to tell me?" He snapped at Armand, gesturing wildly at the papers in front of him. He had dropped them on the desk as soon as the guild representatives had left the room. "You knew this entire time and you weren't going to tell me? You're the one who bloody told them!"

"This wasn't the reaction I was expecting," Armand said coolly, already knowing the outburst was coming. He had known the moment his visitors arrived earlier that morning, unannounced. "But I had thought to surprise you later."

Severus read over a few sheets, scowling, and ran his hand through his hair. "Surprise me. Right…" The silence stretched again, until the only thing Snape could hear was his heartbeat and the occasional rustling of paper. Even with a recommendation from his potions master, to be offered this position so early...

"Armand."

Armand looked up from the spot where he had been watching Severus. "Yes, my friend..."

"You think I'm ready."

The statement was unsure, and Armand could hear the question that Severus would never ask lingering behind it. "I wouldn't have offered it if I didn't think so, Severus." Snape sat down and sighed as if relieved, making Armand smile. He really did think the best of his apprentice, even when the boy didn't think so himself. He turned his attention to the window right past Severus and watched the snowfall. "Will you?"

"Will I what?" Snape snapped, still caught up in all the papers in front of him.

"Accept the position."

"No."

The abrupt answer shocked the vampire, though he only showed it with the fading of his smile. He turned his attention to the pale wizard, confused. Severus picked up on the feeling and sighed deeply, looking up for only a moment before returning to sort the papers. "I haven't learned all that you can teach me yet..." he answered.

Severus stood and walked past the vampire to the work he had started earlier that morning. He flipped through a few pages of the book he had already laid out, and Armand turned to watch him, silent. Snape continued, scowl firmly planted on his face. He was agitated, going through the motions as if he were trying to persuade Armand that it was what he was really thinking about.

After a few moments of struggling to compose himself, Snape ran his hand through his hair and let out another deep sigh. "I'll leave when I'm ready, no sooner. Got it?" The whisper was barely there, but Armand heard it. Before waiting to hear his master's opinion on the matter, he threw himself into his work completely and ignored the older man.

Armand shook his head, half-amazed, half-humored. "Alright, Severus."

* * *

1981 ~ Office, Armand's House, Spain

Armand Farevello sat behind his desk watching the boy standing just a few feet in front of him. 'No, not boy, Armand.' he reminded himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He kept his face void of emotion as he heard his apprentice out, but he wanted nothing more than to comfort the man.

Severus Snape was seething with anger, and even before he had begun to speak, Armand had noticed his sweet smell was tainted. He was speaking calmly, standing still, but Armand had a good feeling that if Severus could get his hands on whatever was causing these emotions…

"...and he's threatening Lily."

Armand closed his eyes just a second longer, his only sign of displeasure. He could not figure his apprentice's obsession with the now married woman who had repeatedly pushed him, and his help, away. But despite all of Lily's protests and Armand's disapproval, Severus seemed just as in love with her as he had been when he was a child.

He opened his eyes again, looking at the wizard standing in front of him. 'Ah, there it is.' Snape's fists were clenched in rage at his sides as he tried to contain himself in front of the vampire. Both of them fell into their usual silence, but Severus watched Armand carefully, as if he expected his master to argue or fight with him.

"So you're leaving your apprenticeship." Armand stated evenly, keeping his own emotions in check.

Snape took a deep breath to steady himself, and kept his face as solemn as he could. "Armand, I can't accept your help on this."

"Why not?" Armand snapped back, eyes narrowing just a little. The rage he felt was starting to show; the events Severus had talked about and his own feelings were just egging on the vampire's anger. If this Voldemort thought he could use Severus for his own means and undermine Armand's authority...

Snape wasn't fazed by Armand's outburst, knowing too well that it was coming even before the conversation had started. They had grown attached to each other over the past three years, as master and apprentice, and as friends. He didn't enjoy the thought of leaving the older man's side either, but it couldn't be helped. They both knew the time was coming; he had hoped it wouldn't be so soon...

"Armand, I cannot allow you to drag your coven into battle over an issue like this."

Armand raised his eyebrows, only slightly surprised at Severus's consideration. Severus knew his high seat in the council gave him certain privileges over others, and of course Severus knew he would use his position to help in any way he could. Already, he had been mentally listing the names of people who would stand with him over this.

He sighed, resigned. Severus was right; he couldn't help him. But if this dark wizard hovering on the horizon made Severus so willing to break the ties between them... Armand stood and walked around to the front of his desk, keeping his face hidden from his apprentice; he removed his glasses and set them on the edge of the desk. Severus watched him cautiously, just a few feet away.

And after another bit of silence, "Alright."

"Thank you," Snape breathed out, relieved. He looked up again at the carefully blank face and felt a small surge of regret. This was the end. He nodded to Armand and turned to leave. "I won't forget what you've done for me, Armand."

"No." The voice stopped Snape dead in his tracks, holding on to the doorframe for balance. In the instant he had spoken, Armand was on him, holding the smaller frame to his chest. The sudden chill caused Snape to gasp, but no matter how much he wanted to move away from the vampire, he was frozen in place. The first emotions that crossed his mind were panic and confusion, but he never got a chance to voice his concern.

"No, _Severus_, you won't."

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but the familiar feeling of a cold nose against his neck made the words die on his lips. He closed his eyes and tried to will his heartbeat to calm down but the close proximity was driving his natural instincts wild. Just like all those years earlier, he was at the vampire's mercy.

"Ar-Armand..." He breathed, feeling control leaking away. All he could feel was a glorious mixture of heat and cold and his body's reaction to it. The loud ringing in his ears didn't stop even as he tried to think of something, anything, to distract him.

Armand took a deep breath of his apprentice's warm scent and smiled against the small piece of neck exposed to him. "_Severus_..." He whispered back, reaching up to undo the first few buttons of the wizard's shirt. Severus didn't stop him or struggle, as was expected; instead, he turned his head away and exposed his neck more to his capture.

Armand smiled despite himself and allowed himself, for the first time in three years, to taste the hot skin below.

Snape bit off a moan as cold lips lowered on his neck and stayed there, kissing up and down the now fully exposed column. "Armand!" Severus gasped softly, pushing back into the body holding him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think- the only thing he knew was Armand.

The vampire tightened his grip and smiled against his kisses and licks. Severus tasted just the way Armand had imagined all these years; as much as his smell drove him insane, his taste was driving the creature in him to stir in need. He pushed back on the sensations as much as he could manage and pulled back from his ex-apprentice's neck.

Snape, released, found his lungs working again and took a deep breath. His neck burned with cool marks still and his mind was clearing slowly, still dazed. "Armand, wh-"

Then there was only blinding pleasure and pain. The loud ringing in his ears that didn't seem like it could get any louder did just that; his throat burned, his eyes burned, and every muscle Snape could feel ached. His knees gave out on him, but Armand held him in place. Snape gasped and moaned, caught between the intense feelings of wanting more and wanting it to end.

And as soon as it came, the feelings were gone. Armand pulled away from Snape's neck and moved back to give him room. With the cold body holding him at arm's length and the pain in his muscles fading, Severus could feel the steady pain in his neck tenfold.

"Armand..." Severus tried to growl threateningly, but it came out as a whisper.

Armand leaned in softly, eyes focused on a mark that Severus couldn't see. He leaned down and kissed the swirling design as it took form, pleased with the results.

"What... what did you do?" Snape panted, trying to sneer over his shoulder. He felt weak and worn, and the question didn't hold half of the malice he wanted it to. 'I should be turning, right?' His eyes slid closed for lack of energy, and he sagged into his master's cold embrace.

"My mark, Severus." Armand said soothingly, rubbing the wizard's sore back lightly with his free hand. The design spread to its full length, and he smiled. 'Beautiful.' The swirls and sharp angles mixed beautifully against the pale skin and seemed almost to glow.

Snape reached a tired hand up to the bite and traced his fingers over the skin. It burned like hell, but he couldn't feel a thing.

Smiling, Armand brushed Severus's hand away - catching it with his own to lower it back by the man's side. He quickly put his fingers to work doing up the buttons he had previously torn open.

"Why?" Snape asked weakly, trying to clear his thoughts.

"So that wherever you are, you have my favor." Armand popped Severus's shirt collar, hiding the fresh design from sight. He took another step away from the wizard, smiling to himself. 'So you may return to me, Severus.' He thought, knowing it would be too much to tell the wizard outright.

* * *

**A/N (Naoi): **In regards to the My Back Pages bookstore, yes it does exist in London, but as to whether or not it has a back room reference section or secret wizarding books hidden away, I must confess ignorance.

Links to pictures of Armand's Mark can be found on my profile page and on the Duskborn community (because it doesn't translate into words very well).

Reviews are love!

Ja,  
Caits and Naoi


	9. Chapter Four: Avail to Sever

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: French and Latin translations provided at the end of each section; translations provided by Google Translate and subject to all inherent flaws present with using such a tool.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_(This chapter contains possibly disturbing mental imagery.** Consider yourself warned.**)_

**_Revised February 2013._**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Avail to Sever**

* * *

October 16, 1998 ~ Somewhere in Scotland

Snape held back a curse as he narrowly avoided stumbling over a bush at the edge of the sloping field before him. It was both cloudy and only four days until the new moon, offering a strong cover of darkness. The difficulty in navigating the terrain towards the target had led Snape to thinking of turning back several times already during the night. He could just ignore the promise he had made to Lupin, and tell the wolf that it wasn't possible.

But then his own damndable sense of pride and a pair of haunted green eyes would shatter the shallow illusion and force him onward through the sparse woods towards this sloping field with a well-hidden house planted near the center.

A rush of air flew by his left side as he paused for a moment to catch his breath - the only evidence of the coven-size group of vampires Armand had sent with him under the command ofMaster Eshe. Armand had argued about coming to Scotland himself, but had been forced to stay behind suddenly when another coven attempted to encroach on his territory.

Snape cleared the edge of the scrub surrounding the field and crouched, a scowl lighting briefly on his lips.

It cleared after a moment of staring as the faint moonlight finally allowed him to pick out the warding stones around the safehouse. His neck began to burn as magic raced through his veins. He pulled the tingling warmth around him like a blanket and smirked. It had taken months of searching for him to finally locate the correct safehouse where the Dark Lord was keeping Potter. Months of futile raids, swift escapes, and carefully woven memory charms before he had stumbled across a clue worth more than the grain of salt it had to be taken with.

Only a few weeks ago, while despairing over his lack of success despite his own capabilities and the assistance of his old Master, Snape had been skulking at a dingy table in a seedy bar when the key to his search literally dropped into his lap. A rather drunken Dolohov, cocky as always, had been describing his latest creative exploits to a group of newer recruits. The other Death Eater - drunk as he was - had been careful to avoid mentioning any specific names, but as soon as he caught sight of Snape hunched in the corner, the broad man had swaggered over to brag. Grin stretched too wide and eyes unfocused, he had consoled Snape about his loss in not being able to have fun with the "skinny little fuck with the curse-bright eyes." A few more mentions of "dark hair that looked so _delicious_ when it was dripping blood into those damn green eyes" and a body near caved-in as was to be expected "after so much time" with them, and Snape had been gearing up to curse the man in order to get Dolohov alone for questioning when the other had simply stopped talking suddenly and passed out onto Snape's lap in the middle of a sentence.

Stunned, mind whirling with the knowledge he might have just found what he was looking for, he had cast a quick confounding charm on Dolohov's previous drinking partners before dragging the larger man up to a room above the bar. Throwing him onto the bed, he had torn into the man's drunken and unprotected mind to pull the coordinates of the last safehouse he had been to out of his memory. Memorizing them easily, he then obliviated the last several moments of the man's memory and apparated back to his house to begin planning.

It had taken five days just to learn the correct unlocking sequence for the various hallways in the house, not to mention trying to figure out the wards that Valois had had a hand in creating which shielded the house from detection and infiltration. Several close calls with some of the other Death Eaters later, and it had finally come down to tonight.

A subtle movement of his wrist, and his wand dropped lightly and swiftly into his hand. Slim fingers wrapped lovingly around the wood, relishing in the feeling of the smooth grain against his chilled skin. A flood of warmth surged from his wand, reacting to the magic he was pooling. That combined with the heat from his neck, and Snape was quite comfortable in the chill October air.

A sharp whistle sounded from across the clearing to signal that all the other members of this operation were in place. Taking one last calming breath, Snape surged forward. He had forgone his usual flared robes this night; the excess fabric was a hindrance and the distinctive shape a giveaway he was a wizard. Instead, he had on a close-fitting, sleeveless over robe which ended at his knees, and laced together down the front from his chest to the bottom of his ribcage. A black knit turtleneck and black pants were underneath to complete the ensemble.

Strides much longer thanks to the shorter robe, Snape reached the first ward stone quickly. He crouched down beside it and began to wave his wand through a Celtic unlocking charm that should let them through the wards. He had thirty seconds before the vampires would begin their assault, and the ward had to be down by then. One last swish and flick, and Snape saw the runes surrounding the stone flicker and die.

In an instantaneous chain reaction, soft pops sounded around the clearing as the rest of the stones failed to complete the circle due to the missing ward stone. A hand brushed across his arm in thanks as a vampire phased past him in a cloud of darkness.

Settling down behind the rock, Snape waited for the all clear signal. As much as he hated it, Armand had been correct to enforce the idea that Snape remain back from the main part of the melee. Even with a change to his wardrobe, the moment he started firing spells, it would give him away. Also, if any of the other Death Eaters saw him fighting with an attacking force of vampires, his position in the ranks would be severely compromised.

He heard a faint scream echo across the field from inside the building and allowed his lips to twist into a cruel sneer. He suffered from no second thoughts for the deaths of those inside that house. Before he had started his search for the house in front of him, he had only heard rumours of the buildings secreted across the countryside that had been built specifically for some of Voldemort's favoured to come and have free reign to play with their 'pets.' Normally those who had the _privilege_ of being held at these enclosures died within the first few days... and those that didn't were beyond broken when the Dark Lord called for them again.

Snape let his head fall forward against the rough stone of the inert warding stone and took a deep breath. This was Valois's secondary enclose. _His_ playroom, which would undoubtedly be one of the most mentally traumatizing places in the world. He held an honest fear for the condition they would find Harry Potter in. It had taken him longer than expected to get the coordinates for this place, and in Death Eater time, anything could have happened to the boy.

Another scream, slightly louder this time, and a vampire was suddenly beside him. He barely kept his startle reaction down to simply drawing his wand and pointing it at the dark shadow suddenly beside him as his heart hammered in his chest and pushed a surge of adrenaline through him. Mastering himself quickly, he lowered his wand and raised an eyebrow at the vampire.

For some reason, this seemed to amuse the vampire. There was a small curl of his lips as the vampire nodded his head in Snape's direction. "Thank you for your help, Severus-nii. We would not have been as efficient at containing this place without your help." The dark voice was cultured and carried an Asian undertone that the vampire had yet to rid himself of. "Master Eshe sends his regards; he has already taken a few of the Death Eaters back to his Nursery for the younglings."

Snape gave a noncommittal nod and stood fluidly. Both wizard and vampire knew that neither could have completed this mission as easily or swiftly without the other. "Have you located the target?"

The vampire scowled, a rare visible expression that showed how disturbed he had been by the conditions found inside the house. "Yes." The word was clipped and harsh. "We have located his cell, but there are more wards on the door; we thought it best if Severus-nii looked at it first before we simply broke in." His accent had increased as he spoke, blurring the sounds around the l's and shortening his vowels.

Snape nodded at the man, refraining from commenting on the obvious increase in the other's emotions, and began to stride forward to the house. The vampire would direct him if he began to go the wrong way. "Do you know what any of the wards on the door were?" Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw the vampire shake his head.

"No, I am untrained in that art, Severus-nii." A subtle motion from a pale hand had Snape turning right at the next corner. "I believe that Sara-chan was looking at it; she is rather skilled at reading wizarding magicks."

Snape wasn't familiar with all of the vampires from Armand's rather large family, but he vaguely remembered Sara; a honey-haired woman who had been an American Wiccan before being turned a few decades ago. Relatively young in vampire years, but with great skills. She had been one of the vampires who shadowed him on several occasions during his search for Potter.

A few more turns and Snape almost ran into the group of vampires crowding before a large wooden door. They were clustered in a mostly-unmoving mass, looking more like a bizarre arrangement of statues than a group of living creatures. Snape could only assume they had cleared the rest of the house if this many were standing before the door to Potter's cell.

Shooting a glance through a gap between a few of the vampires, Snape eyed the door. The theme of opulence and overindulgence had been obvious to Snape as soon as he entered the house, and this door was no exception to it. Gold inlay traced several arcane runes of power through the dark wood, and Snape could just barely see the thin strands of silver running through the wood in parallel to the gold, locking the door into an unyielding slab of magic and wood.

He gave an internal sneer to the inanimate object before speaking to the mass before it. "Move."

Despite the rude tone and his weak human nature, all the vampires parted at his command, shifting to each side in order to clear a path for him until only a single pair of vampires remained in front of the door, slightly to the left of the inlaid wood. Her hazel eyes gazed intently at the door, and her hands were shaking. A man to her left leaned down in order to whisper into her ear.

The words were too quiet for him to pick up, but Snape inferred the gist from the way her gaze suddenly snapped over to him. It pinned him in place and made him want to either draw his wand on her or shrink away. "I've found several locking charms, and a few wards," she said before her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Some of the tension in Snape's shoulders relaxed at the nervous gesture. "I don't know what they all are, though. I can only identify a few for sure, and the rest are guesses. I never studied magic this dark in my mortality. I recognize some silencing wards and a 'restriction light under eternal' ward." She shook her head. "I'm not sure of the exact translation."

Snape made a gentle cutting motion with his hand to stop her from continuing. "It's alright. I never expected you know all the wards placed here."

The male vampire that had spoken to her earlier pulled her aside gently and gave Snape a small nod. Wrapping broad arms around her waist, he stepped backwards into a shadow on the wall. Snape blinked, and they were gone.

"Argent-san has taken her to rest, Severus-nii." Snape turned his head to face the Asian male. "Sara-chan is still young and not used to the press of this dark magick. He will have her drink and clear her mind from the sinister thoughts clouding the air."

Snape looked the vampire over from the top of his neatly combed hair to the ends of his pressed trousers and the shiny shoes beneath them. "I was under the impression that wizarding magic was not your forte."

The man nodded. "It is not, Severus-nii. I can however, read intent in the air. It was the gift of my turning. Though it is not as strong during these midnight hours as it is during the noon sun, even now I can still feel the weight of the malicious thoughts which literally coat the walls of this place. They practically choke one with their press."

It was only after he said something that Snape paid enough attention to notice the faint purple tinge to the other's cheeks that showcased his stress with his surroundings. Snape opened his mouth to issue a reply, but was cut off before he could even start to mouth the words.

"Severus-nii. You should not keep Harry-kun waiting."

It was a soft reprimand, but a sharp one. Snape felt himself flush slightly, and his neck gave off a faint pulse in response.

Closing his mouth without a sound, he spun on his heel and raised his wand. A few diagnostic spells later, and he had isolated the locking spell. It was thankfully keyed to admit anyone with the correct password access to the room. Since Valois was being _kind_ enough to allow other Death Eaters access to his personal playhouse, Snape had managed to pick up the password from one of them. It was clearly chosen with Potter in mind, much to Snape's dread.

Taking a deep breath, he pooled magic in his palm and laid it against the door. "_Alcyon_." There was a soft clicking noise, and the door unlatched.

As the door opened, Snape almost let loose a growl worthy of Lupin. Several of the vampires shuffled around behind him, and he felt the cold wisps of their teleportation spells as some of them left.

The room was as magnificent as the door. Cream coloured walls were covered waist-high with dark wooden wainscoting that matched the door. A shimmering gold paint was applied over each of the walls in complicated overlays of runes and sigils disguised as mere decoration. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and was lit from within by small bluebell flames. Soft sheets pooled on the floor from the edge of a queen-size bed which was pushed against the far right wall. Then, prominently displayed against the left wall, was a master kit of potions and various blades and screws. Each bottle was glitteringly transparent to showcase its contents, and the sharp edge of each tool shone in the light of the chandelier. It was a room fit for a prince, and locked in a plain cage in the middle of the room was Potter.

Ignoring the resplendent interior surrounding him, Snape strode forward quickly to kneel by the cage. Iron bars were spaced barely a hands width apart, and rose seamlessly from the floor for a mere three feet before being capped by another set of crossed bars. A layer of semi-congealed blood spread along the floor within the confines of the cage.

'Iron. Such a horrid metal,' commented Snape to himself as he eyed the cage carefully to make sure there were no curses waiting to activate if he got any closer. Iron was, by nature, a magically inert metal which resisted charms, wards, and curses with a strong resilience, but it was always better to be paranoid than not.

Sensing no malignant magic lingering around the cage, Snape was quick to run diagnostic spells over the crumpled form in the cage. The results had him cursing under his breath, and he began to cast on the cage next - attempting to figure out how it opened.

"There are silencing runes on the wall," one of the vampires remarked from behind him. "Carved in, and then painted over."

Snape grunted. "Of course. You wouldn't want to issue any unspoken invitations for someone else to come play too, would you? You'll most likely find an alert system over the potion bottles notifying someone of when one needs refilled; a delayed self-cleaning spell on the knives, screws, bed, and sheets; and a lasting charm on the bluebell flames to keep them stable. Knowing its creator, the room would have been designed so it requires minimum maintenance." Hunching over his spellwork, Snape hissed out a quick, "Lazy bastard."

Quiet mutters swelled up behind him, but Snape ignored them in favor of attempting to find the locking mechanism for the cage in front of him. Potter's eyelids fluttered madly, and he groaned at the noise around him. Snape interrupted his spells on the cage to cast a quick medical spell on him to help numb pain.

When his next spell failed to isolate the correct spell matrix, Snape spat a curse. He wasn't a curse breaker or ward maker; he was a Potions Master.

Foggy green eyes opened and stared blankly at the Potions Master. Snape felt his heart wrench sideways in his chest. Potter made no move to speak and only blinked slowly at him with dilated eyes. A sharp motion with his hands made the vampires behind him quiet their mutters. Swallowing around the constriction in his throat, Snape addressed the boy in front of him. He quelled the urge to use the boy's last name, and made sure his tone was calm and soft when he spoke. "Harry, Lupin asked me to come and get you. Do you know how to unlock this cage?"

The boy flinched back at first word, but Snape could see a faint flicker in his eyes that hopefully showed he was thinking over what Snape had asked. The vampires behind him hadn't moved or made a noise since he had motioned them quiet, and it lent a still quality to the room as he waited for Potter to answer him. The silence made him think he could hear the boy's heart beating a staccato rhythm.

When several more moments had passed, Potter licked his lips carefully, and rolled slightly to push a shaky hand near the edge of the cage. Without hesitating, Snape stuck his own slim hand through the bars and grasped Potter's malnourished, bloody one. He could feel the bones of the pale appendage through the thin skin and Snape's eyes softened of their own accord. A soft exhalation of air came from the slim body in front of him and tired green eyes regained a small bit of colour.

"Harry, I need to know how to open this cage so I can get you out," Snape said, enunciating each word carefully.

Another few moments of waiting while Potter's eyes gained a touch more colour yet, and then the boy took a shaky breath in. The words that followed were scratchy and faint, mangled by a lack of proper understanding of the nuances of the language and instead said as if the boy had simply heard it often enough to repeat it - which was probably the truth. "_Il est temps de jouer, petite colombe_."

Parsing out the words took a moment of deep thought, but soon Snape understood. Hiding the angry snarl he wanted to voice behind his mental walls, he gave the boy a slight nod to let him know he understood.

He rubbed the back of the hand still clasped in his own while he repeated the phrase Potter had disclosed to him. A small flinch traveled through their linked hands, and Snape knew the only reason Potter hadn't flinched backwards bodily was because he didn't have the energy to do so.

The cage clicked open loudly in the silence of the room. Potter released a large, shaky breath and closed his eyes as the door swung smoothly open. Tears were already streaming down the thin face. "Thank y-"

Before the boy could even finish the sentiment, he had fallen unconscious. Snape reacted instantly and flung the door open the rest of the way - almost hitting himself in the head when it rebounded. He growled at it and worked to gently pulled the boy from inside the iron cage. It was hard at some points because he had to literally tear Potter from the cage, ripping scabs open and causing blood to being flowing again.

Snape was extra cautious as he maneuvered the boy's chest incase he had sustained any broken bones. The last thing he needed was to puncture the boy's heart or one of his lungs when he was trying to rescue him. When he was sure he had the boy firmly cradled in his grasp, he straightened. Chest quivering with emotion, he turned to the still waiting vampires. His face was probably set into a fierce scowl from the way it was tensed, and his neck was burning hotly against his skin, making him want to rip his shirt off to let the cool air brush it.

"You," he said to one of the few vampires left - more and more had teleported out as Snape pulled Potter from his cage. "Grab anything on the table over there that says s_anatio, stimulare,_ or _almus_. Leave everything else. I have what I need at the safehouse." The vampire nodded and was over at the table in the time it took Severus to blink.

"I will need transportation back to the safehouse if one of you is willing to give it. The rest can ransack the place. Take what you like and destroy the rest."

The Asian vampire from earlier easily stepped forward. "I am the best in transportation of those remaining; the others will stay here and follow your orders." There was a small grin at the end of that statement before the man stepped forward and grabbed Snape gently around the waist, mindful of his charge. A second of darkness and they were off.

(_Alcyon_ - Halcyon)

(_Il est temps de jouer, petite colombe_. - It's time to play, little dove.)

(_sanatio_, _stimulare_, or _almus_ - stimulate, healing, or nourishing)

* * *

October 17, 1998 ~ Order of the Phoenix Safehouse Number 3, Scotland

Snape kept his knees loose as the shadows around them receded, depositing them in one of the Order's smaller Scotland-based safehouses. The landing was more gracefully than Snape was anticipating, and he spared a second to be grateful on his charge's behalf before he rushed forward and into the small bedroom they had set up to receive Potter so many months ago.

He placed the boy carefully on the bed, watching for any sudden signs of discomfort. As soon as his arms were out from under the malnourished body, Snape was reaching for the healing and pain-numbing potions stocked in the small cabinet beside the bed. As he measured out doses, he was careful to record the amount of everything he was giving the boy. The body before him was so _thin_, and Snape was wary of causing a negative reaction by giving him too many potions at once.

A few minutes passed before the vampire he had set to search for any possibly support potions appeared from the shadows near the bedroom's fireplace.

He only spared the man a glance before jerking his chin towards the main room and spat out a quick order to just drop them on the table he would find out there. He would sort through them later and see if any could be used, but for now Snape was more worried about trying to re-inflate Potter's collapsed lungs.

* * *

October 26, 1998 ~ Order of the Phoenix Safehouse Number 3, Scotland

There was a soft ticking noise to his left. He cringed as he heard it; the sound wasn't safe. Not safe. Sound was not safe.

It kept coming though, faster and faster, and louder and louder.

He whimpered and tried to pull his limbs into himself. Make himself small so that the sound might leave.

He was stopped. Something was holding onto his wrists.

It burned.

It burned!

Bile rose in his throat. Pleas and cries perched on his lips - pulled themselves from the flesh like worms from wet soil and dug tiny claws down down; they boiled over, massed, and clogged his mouth. Still the burning wouldn't stop.

His fingers, did he even have fingers anymore? He couldn't feel them...

Black invaded the edge of his vision - spun tentacles that smelled like apples across his eyes to blind him. Spots of colour danced on the edges.

He was scared.

He dove down.

Deeper and deeper.

Trying to escape whatever held him. Escape, flee.

A different black enshrouded him as he fell, calming this time instead of pinching. He surrendered to it and kept diving.

..::...::...::..

There was something in his head.

It was crawling around with too sharp limbs amoung the dark spot. He tried to cry out for it to stop, but his throat closed up in the fear that it wouldn't listen.

Go away, go away, _go away_.

Dark images assaulted his brain; he held himself still and tight within his ears and eyes and hands.

Scared to scream. Scared to be noticed.

If he screamed _it_ would notice.

He sobbed against the pressure and dove back into the blackness.

..::...::...::..

Blinding light assaulted him. Stabbed through his eyes and peeled away the screams that flew before him like a shield.

Something was on his face. Wet and heavy. It rolled off him in waves, and he cried out as it moved.

It was taking something. Something was missing. Why was it missing?

He didn't want to miss anything. _They_ already took everything else. He didn't want to miss what he had.

He dove, faster and harder than before.

..::...::...::..

He screamed. Why was nothing coming out? It was in his head again. Waiting. _Watching him_.

The pinching darkness was back. Shuffling around inside him. He felt it move up his arms. Around in his legs.

He wished it would leave him alone. Go away again. He whimpered lightly as it moved higher and higher.

Something was making noise at him. Soft fuzzy sounds that seemed vaguely familiar to his mind.

The thing stopped. Moved back down.

He could have cried.

Soft blackness enfolded him as something warm flew down his throat with soft wings. A small part of him was scared, but that fuzzy softness was still moving just beside him. Getting fuzzier.

He grasped for it. He wanted the softness back.

* * *

November 18, 1998 ~ Order of the Phoenix Safe House Number 3, Scotland

Remus watched as Harry reached weakly for his hand again. Ever since Snape had started him on the nutrient boosting potions, it seemed like Harry was conscious more often than not. That consciousness came at a price though. Harry was plague by nightmares and pain.

Remus sighed as Harry gave another small whimper. Reaching his own hand out, he laid it across Harry's, careful not to touch his still-bandaged wrists. Too many healing potions would be detrimental to his health at this stage, and both Snape and he preferred to use the magical remedies on Harry's more serious injuries. That meant that, for now, Harry's wrists were bandaged loosely with gauze.

It had been a shock to some of the vampires helping out that anything pressed on his wrists would send Harry into screaming fits complete with begging, cursing, tears, and lashing magic. The scars of his imprisonment were much more than just physical, and were etched deep.

A soft knock came from behind him, and Remus turned around. The strong scent of herbs, wood polish, and a hint of orange preceded Snape as the Potion's Master stepped into the room. "How is he?"

Remus felt his wolf stir at the dark voice of the other, but a practiced mental hand kept the beast content. "Still upset, but he's becoming calmer each day that passes. We think he might wake up in a few days."

If Snape was confused by the plural, he didn't show it. "Albus should be flooing in again later this evening. I already warned Yuki and the others. They'll clear out until tomorrow afternoon, just in case we need to sweep the house for bugs."

Remus nodded absently, intent on watching his cub's face for any sign of waking. He heard a soft exhalation of air behind him and knew Snape was getting fed up with his single-mindedness. Without looking, he raised the hand not holding onto Harry and flipped Snape a one-fingered salute that he had learned from Sirius.

Sharp clicks against the wood informed him that Snape was walking away. A small smile curved his lips and he began humming lightly under his breath. It seemed to calm his cub, and it was at least _something_ he could do for the teen.

..::...::...::..

Remus tensed as he heard the floo activate across the house. The soft voice of the Headmaster sounded deceptively calm, but Remus could almost feel the man's tension from a room away. The desperation practically reeked. Twisting slightly, he shifted his chair until one eye could watch the door while the other kept watch over his injured cub.

"Ah, Remus, my boy," the man's eyes were twinkly madly; "I would have thought you to be back at Grimmauld Place preparing a one-man assault!" The Headmaster chuckled to himself, "I'm glad to see otherwise."

Remus narrowed his eyes as the wolf shifted in the back of his mind. "Do you think Harry means so little to me, Albus?"

The Headmaster's eyes widened slightly at the statement, and Remus could almost see how the man's thoughts churning frantically. His voice was much softer when he finally gave his reply. "No, my boy, not at all. I just thought your need for revenge might outweigh your concern."

Remus snorted, and turned to Harry. Dumbledore stepped up beside his chair and laid a hand across Harry's forehead in a gesture of concern. Remus had to mentally pull his wolf back as the traitor touched his cub. "How is he?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Snape answered for him, well-versed by now in telling when Remus was holding back from maiming someone. Remus was thankful. "He has been getting better each day, although bright light and pressure on his wrists and neck still send him into minor fits. His spells of consciousness are lasting longer each time though, and he is responding to outside stimuli in a positive manner now. I predict he will begin periods of true wakefulness in less than a month."

Dumbledore pulled his wrinkled hand back and turned to face Snape. "So long?"

Remus gave a soft sub-vocal growl and reached out to tug one of Harry's hands closer to himself. 'Of course, you old conniving bastard. He was tortured for almost two years, and you just want him to wake up when you feel like he should?' A snort was inserted at the end of this mental monologue and Remus quit paying attention to what was going on in the room.

He watched as Harry's eyelids fluttered lightly in REM. 'So close to waking, yet so far away.' Remus traced his cub's face with his eyes, roving over each and every scar that had been placed there, landing last at the infamous lightning bolt curse scar on his forehead.

A pair of footsteps headed out of the room and Remus allowed a shallow sigh to escape him. His wolf, and himself truthfully, would only be truly content when they could no longer feel the old man's presence in the same house.

Standing in a hunch, Remus moved to kneel on the bed beside Harry. "Wake up soon, cub. You're safe now, and we miss you dearly." He placed a soft kiss to the restless teen's forehead and swiftly moved back to his chair so his presence wouldn't loom over the teen. He began humming under his breath again and let his hand trace idle patterns over Harry's palm.

He could hear vague murmurs from the direction of the dining hall, but was unable to make out the words. He focused harder, but the sounds didn't get any clearer. He frowned as a feeling of unease worked its way through his stomach. 'What could the old man have to say that he placed himself behind a muffling spell?'

..::...::...::..

Snape carefully locked his thoughts away as he stood opposite Dumbledore.

"I would have thought, with your skill, that Harry would have been awake by now Severus." There was an accusation in the tone, a disappointment that asked if he was really trying his hardest. The insinuation made him bristle.

He waved a dismissive hand towards the room Lupin and the boy were in. "It's not as easy as that. The man who had him for the last few months is a master of traumatizing his victims. With the amount of damage Potter had sustained, I am not surprised that he has yet to fully wake." A scowl pulled at his lips, "If I were to be honest, I would say I am actually surprised he has progressed as far as he has. The Potter gene for stubbornness, I must assume."

Dumbledore hummed. The man's bright robes were distracting against the desaturated colours of the safehouse, and Snape had a feeling that was exactly why he wore them half the time. "This man... he is really that dangerous?"

Snape clenched his hands in real anger this time. "Yes," he hissed. His neck flared into warmth as Snape tried to control his rising feelings and keep a hold on his persona. "He may have only joined four years ago, but he has easily become one of the Dark Lord's most trusted. He is psychotic, obsessive, and dangerous. I am honestly not sure whether he follows from a sense of loyalty to the Cause, or because he was bored and thought it would be fun. He is a near-master in wards, and spends his free time playing complex mind games with anyone he comes across."

Dumbledore's eyes were wide. "Why have I not heard of him from you before then, Severus?" The gentle scolding was expected after his outburst, as was the delicate probe against his thoughts, too soft to be intrusive just yet.

Snape jerked his head to the side and crossed his arms. "Valois is not one for front-line battles. He held what mainly appears to be an assistant position in the ranks. I have only really worked with the man once." Turning back to Dumbledore, he hesitated a moment and then rushed forwards with his words, as if to cover up a mistake. "He spends most of his time in the werewolf camps." An explanation, an excuse. "He doesn't hold any political position, and he's not a Creature. The most I've heard him doing is modifying some of the spells on the prison cells so they block light and sound."

A hum was the only response to this information, and Snape flushed slightly. "I did not deem him important, Headmaster."

"I see... In the future, Severus, tell me everything you know without omissions. There is no knowing what may or may not be important at the time it is relayed." Dumbledore stared directly at him, forcing Snape to meet his eyes. The shivering feel of a compulsion charm wrapped around his mind, and Snape struggled to let it settle close enough to appear to have taken without actually letting the thing attach to his mind.

"Now, I have something else I must ask of you."

..::...::...::..

Several hours passed before Remus heard the floo being activated again.

It took only a moment after that before Snape stormed back in, looking ready to murder someone. "That damn old man!" he hissed. His arms were shaking at his sides and Remus could see the tension drawing a harsh line across his shoulders, winding him as tight as a stretched rubber band. "Am I only a bloody potions stock house for him?"

It was the start of a long, hissing rant continued on unabated until Remus heard him start to repeat his threats.

"Severus," he interrupted calmly, "what the bloody hell is wrong this time?" He couldn't help the exasperated tone that ended up in that statement despite the fact that it was supposed to sound angry.

Snape whirled on him, robes flaring. "That damnable old man is pressing me to make a series of loyalty potions to feed to Potter while he is unconscious." A still shaking hand was run through Snape's hair hastily. "It'll keep the boy submissive to the Headmaster when he wakes up, and a later monthly dosage will keep him compliant and moldable. The Headmaster still thinks he can turn the boy into his weapon by just shoving the pieces of him back together forcefully."

Remus had begun frowning halfway through the speech, and by the end, he was standing and prepared to shove Snape up against a wall again to make sure that nothing happened to his cub.

Snape just snorted at him before raising an eyebrow. "Calm down, wolf. I have no intention of bowing to the man and manipulating a helpless child for his own wishes."

"Even if the child is the son of James Potter?" Remus growled out. His wolf was pushing its weak way forward, wanting and needing to do something after doing nothing but waiting for so long.

Snape walked forward and stepped right into Remus's face. "The only reason I haven't slapped you yet, Lupin, is because you are the only thing keeping that child sane right now." A bony finger was jabbed against his chest. "You are all he has left, and despite what I portray towards him at Hogwarts, I cannot despise him enough to wish what he went through on anyone." Snape inched forward a space more so his breath was coming across Remus's face. "_Especially_ a _child_, no matter their parents."

Remus felt his anger cooling at the harsh rebuttal from the other man. Mentally shoving his wolf to the side - easily, since it had been two weeks since the full moon - he backed up from Snape and dropped into the chair beside Harry's bed where he had been sitting for days now. Allowing gravity to pull him forward, he slumped so his forehead rested in his hands. He glanced sideways at the sleeping form of his cub. _His cub_. Tears burned at the back of his eyes as he watched Harry's chest rising and falling gently as the teen dreamed peacefully for once.

"We have to get him out of here, Snape," Remus said tiredly. "Dumbledore will kill him himself if he stays here."

Snape shook his head, but didn't deny the accusation.

Remus looked up at him from beneath his fringe and continued. "He's already tried to have Poppy take him from you. And as much as I care for the woman, she is deeper in Albus's pocket than either of us. And now," Remus leaned back into the chair and stared straight at Snape. "He's almost lost Harry once, and, for reasons I don't fully understand, he is convinced that Harry is the only one who can defeat Voldemort. We both know Albus won't let go of a piece he thinks he needs." Remus looked at Snape's arm significantly.

The dark haired man glared at him and shifted so his left arm was behind his back slightly. "So what are you saying, exactly?"

Remus glanced back over at Harry who was still deep in a healing sleep. He smiled slightly and let the wolf's mind forward slightly to begin to explain the plan he had just thought up. It had a few holes in it yet, but he knew Snape could help him iron those out in no time.

* * *

**A/N:** Shortly before the original posting of this chapter, Caits and I received a harsh review from someone saying that our story sucked and our chapters were all screwed up. Needless to say, Caits was about to go on the warpath in defense of our 'baby.' Me, I was just going to start crying because I had failed at delivering a good story.

So just in case anyone else was thinking this: Yes, we know our chapters are a bit weird to figure out at first. No, we are not going to have these freaked out chapters for the whole story.

There are only three flashbacks planned out so far. All three happen before post 12. Posts 12 thru 17 are all 'normal' chapters. Each of the interludes we write are posted in order to help you guys further understand what is happening in the background of the 'main plot' (aka: Harry/Edward) so that you can have a better grasp on why events happen the way they do and why characters act the way they do.

Caits and I have done the chapters the way we have _intentionally _and _for a reason._

If you would prefer being shoved into a story you have no understanding of, where the author just wrote it without any plot or reason other than 'Omg, liek, lets have Harry and Edward have sex! Wouldn't that be liek sooo cool!1!' go look somewhere else.  
Caits and I have a plot; it's complex, a pain to keep straight, and the characters typically whine about doing what we tell them. Please don't gripe when we give you information you might appreciate in order to understand the story.

I apologize to those who have done naught but leave encouraging reviews for us, WE LOVE YOU!

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	10. Chapter Five: Vampires & Violins

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: A recorder is a type of instrument similar to a flute.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised February 2013.**_

* * *

**Chapter Five: Vampires and Violins**

* * *

December 5th, 1998 ~ Order of the Phoenix Safe House Number 3, Scotland

Harry woke in a rush, consciousness making a crash landing in the waking world. The first thing he noticed was the pain. His scar burned painfully- his whole head felt like he'd been smashing his face into bricks for days. Every cut and bruise and break in his body ached with an odd numbing sensation; he recognized the symptoms of someone using magic to help block the pain. He tried to remember anything from what happened before, anything of how he had gotten here. Something pulled tight across his wrists, and Harry gasped as his mind was thrust back towards the memories he was searching for.

..::...::...::..

_Screaming voices were yelling at someone to make sure his room was guarded. There were muffled booms and the cracklepop of large-scale magic. Harry felt his head pounding with the sudden increase in noise. His magic was revolving sluggishly around him as he felt the panic of the Death Eaters left at the house he had been taken to. It flared their auras into spikes with a flickering of pressure that popped against his senses like firecrackers._

_There were more screams now as something, things, attacked the house. Harry focused on their fleeting whispers. They felt cold, freezing like ice but without the wetness. His magic bumped into the bars of his cell and withered as it struggled to get a reading on what was going on around him. The cold things were coming closer, and there were more of them now; strong enough that even his feeble, trapped sense could feel their strength. Flashes of magic burned like muted flares in his mind's eye. His eyes fell shut as he tried to envision what was happening._

_He heard something ram up against his door, and a final choked scream as a Death Eater died. A small flicker of glee ran through him as Harry felt the tainted magic of the Death Eater fade away. Eyes open now, he stared at the off-white colour of the ceiling. A frown pulled at his lips, but he was too tired to maintain it and it slipped away._

_Although it caused the cuts on his back to break open again, Harry rolled onto his side so he could view a fuzzy outline of the door. There were quiet voices speaking outside; he heard the cadence but not the words. Wisps of the cold detached from the mass outside the door and drifted away, outside his senses. _

_His head was hurting more now from forcing himself to stay awake; he wished he could rub his eyes to keep himself awake, but his arm was broken at the wrist and the action would only hurt more. 'I wonder if I'm too tired to die?' he thought quietly to himself. Blood was sticking to his cheeks where he had pushed against the solid film of his 'floor' and caused it to burst and released the liquid underneath._

_He opened his eyes again to a sudden shape beyond the bars of his cage. Great black bat wings flew up in his imagination, but he blinked a few times and his sight resolved into that of his Potions Professor. His back really hurt. It was burning with pain, and he could feel his blood dripping down from where he had accidentally reopened his wounds. Harry blinked again, shifting his focus back to the strange form of his old Professor dressed in strange robes. 'You are new,' he wanted to say to the illusion, but lacked the drive._

_"__Harry, Lupin asked us to come and get you. Do you know how to unlock this cage?"_

_He flinched backwards as words came out of the illusion. Fear welled up and threatened to choke him; then the words continued, and it was English and not that breathy French that always always meant bad things. _

_Everything was too quiet now. The word Lupin revolved slowly in his head as he stared ahead of him. Lupin was new. Snape was sort of new. The cold things that still brushed against his senses were new. His magic pushed harder against the bars of his cage, forced enough of itself through that he could pick up the taste that was essential Snape. Insides twisting with the thought that his magic had now betrayed him, Harry licked his lips and drew heavily on the diamond-hard stubbornness he had cultivated._

_He tried to life his hand, but the weight of gravity was too much to overcome and he could barely force his palm to hover off the floor. Accepting the small movement with a calm resignation, Harry focused on pushing his shaking hand towards the edge of the cage. If only he could get it outside the cage..._

_The apparition of Snape noticed the movement and reached inside his cage to wrap a much larger hand around Harry's own. Warmth, strong and focused flowed into him. His magic, which had been feeble for weeks - focused only on sustaining him - surged up inside him from reserves he had never known existed. It pulled lightly at the older man's magic, and lit up like a bright firework in his sight. His eyes dilated and he blinked to clear the imaginary spots from his vision. 'This is real,' he thought. 'This isn't just another illusion created for my torture. This is actually happening.'_

_The hand around his own was too tight; Snape was pressing the bones against one another, but it didn't matter. The pain shooting through him only meant this was real. Harry couldn't help the soft sob that escaped him as that realization started to set in. This was real; this was happening; his old Potions Master was really here; Harry wasn't alone. Magic wavered in the air as tears started to blur his vision. Too many thoughts and emotions were happening at once, and Harry didn't know how to deal with them._

_"Harry," Snape said, a soft tone to the word that he had never ever expected to hear from those thin lips, "I need to know how to open this cage so I can get you out."_

_Out. _Free_._

_Panic choked him next, rising on waves of pain and backed by the whispered promises he heard every day. He would never be free; this was a trap; he wasn't going to make it. Dear Merlin, could he even _survive_ out there. It was such a large space outside his cage after all..._

_As if sensing his distress, his magic was curling tighter around him, wrapping him in long-forgotten warmth and soothing his shallow breaths. It was still drawing strength from the Potions Master, and maybe that meant Harry could draw strength from him too._

_Thinking back, Harry tried to remember how Gray had opened his cage each time he came into the room - something the man had done every single time. It hit him in a flash as soon as he began searching for it. The foreign words filled the space in his head and Harry shook from their reverberations despite them only being spoken in his head._

_His tongue pushed against the inside of his teeth as he took a slightly deeper breath in. _"Il est... temps de... jouer, petite colombe." _His voice cracked halfway through the last two words __and he had to swallow around a solid lump of discomfort. Self-disgust mixed with terror well up inside him. It was only a word... only a word..._

_There was a shift in the pressure on the back of his clasped hand, drawing his attention to the joined limbs. His brow attempted to furrow, gave up when the skin simply refused to cooperate, and instead he watched with disbelieving eyes as Snape made circles on the back of his hand. It sent tingling little shocks to his brain as he felt the smooth pressure and the soft grate of the bones against one another. Pain. Reality._

_French words filtered through to his brain and he flinched back in reflex. Black closed in on the edges of his vision, blurring the outlines of everything in the room. His breath stuck in his throat again. The steady pressure and movement on his hand had not abated and Harry focused on it instead. _

_Snape's hand was much larger than his own, and Harry could feel strangely placed calluses which he assumed came from repeatedly chopping potions ingredients and holding stirring rods. The skin was rough, but not heavily scarred. Snape's middle finger was also twisted slightly from his others fingers; Harry could feel the difference._

_There was a click - more a fleeting pop against his magic than a physical resounding. His magic surged upwards a break in the magically null walls around him appeared; it spread outwards to taste and touch everything else in the room before collapsing back into him again. Faint healing tendrils tickled along his limbs as it relaxed back into his body. _

_Harry blinked around the blackness still spreading across his vision - not of panic this time, but exhaustion. He opened his mouth and forced out the simplest words of gratitude he could push together. "Thank you, Professor." He never noticed as his sentence wasn't completed as he fell into the welcoming arms of blackness and his magic._

..::...::...::..

Everything stopped quickly, leaving Harry breathless and unfocused. His magic surged upwards but ran into a set of restraints and it had nowhere to go. The numbing sensation that had blocked out his pain was throttled with stinging pulses. He gasped for air, struggling to move with the restraints on his magic flaming his panic and holding him still. The room wasn't familiar. Where had they moved him? Had Snape actually been a dream, just something to keep him from noticing the move? His magic pushed harder against the restraints on him, reacting to his pain and confusion. This didn't help calm his panic, but the realization that the room was too bright to be any sort of holding cell did.

Blinking too quickly, Harry glanced frantically around the room, memorizing differences and trying to add them up in his mind. The room was stone, but a warm blush colour and not the drab gray he was used to seeing in his cells; even when Gray had taken him to the gilded room, there was no stone this colour. It was small, but not tight or claustrophobic. It was mostly dark, but Harry could make out a dim light beyond the end of the bed he was laying on. 'A bed?' he thought suddenly, confused and a touch hopelessly. The only memories of beds he had recently was the one Gray would lead him to in the gilded room. Breath quickening, Harry tried to look around him without hurting his neck. He was pretty sure this wasn't a holding cell, but where were the Death Eaters? Harry tried to still his breathing and the pounding in his ears so he could hear any movement or noise around him.

Over his heavy breathing, Harry finally heard the music.

It seemed odd to him that it took him so long to notice the soothing sounds, but sure enough, as he stopped to pay attention, the light music continued. The high-pitched notes flowed smoothly together, taking the form of some song he didn't quite recognize. Slowly the notes moved up and down, reaching Harry and easing his panic. His magic, the raging and pulsing beast, calmed, stilling its movement until the numbing sensation returned completely. His heartbeat slowed, the pain in his head disappeared, and he finally caught his breath. 'Is this some kind of magic?' he thought, letting his eyes relax closed.

He didn't know how long he lay there, listening to the music from beyond the door. The tune seemed to continue on forever, and Harry didn't feel the need to consider the time. He didn't feel the need to consider anything, really. Everything seemed numb now. He didn't care about the world, or about Voldemort, or anything else for that matter. His thoughts slowly unwound from one another and drifted apart, becoming ephermal.

When the music stopped suddenly, Harry's eyes shot open, previous pain and train of thought returning violently, leaving him confused. He coughed, reaching out with his hand to grab anything within reach. His fingertips could just barely touch something cold. The temperature reminded him of something calming and he strained to reach the smooth glass at the edge of his fingers. Almost, he almost had it-

Harry knocked the glass over, jumping when it shattered into a million pieces loudly on the floor. Panic fluttered like the beat of a million butterfly wings inside him, and he cried out. Pain followed as his muscles overtensed; his magic ran wild at the sensation, seeking to aide and heal and fix. Breathing as deeply as he could manage, Harry pulled it back and subdued it. He froze when he heard footsteps rushing up the hall. Nothingness slammed into his conscious, locking it down. Harry's breathing steadied into shallow gasps as adrenaline pulsed through his veins in time with his magic and his emotions locked themselves away.

The door was flung open, and Harry blinked, trying to focus his eyes as the figure rushed closer to him. If it was Gray, Harry was lost. He leaned back waiting for the inevitable, tears stinging right behind his eyes. He wouldn't let them fall, wouldn't give the bastard the joy of seeing him-

"Harry! Merlin, you're awake!"

Harry gasped, straining to turn his head toward the brown shape as it knelt by his bedside. That voice, it couldn't be? "Moony?" He coughed, realizing when he spoke that his mouth and throat felt like they were full of sawdust. He licked his dry lips and tried again. "Remus?"

Finally, his vision cleared, and the brown shape morphed into the familiar shaggy tawny brown hair and amber eyes of his ex-Defense teacher. The werewolf was beside him, touching his forehead lightly and looking him over with a worried expression. Reality disjointed itself as Harry struggled to align Remus with his last few months of memories. 'Is he really here? Did it- am I- Remus!' There was a loud keening noise in the room that had him nearly missing Remus's next words.

"Harry, is something wrong? Are you in any pain?" The concern in his voice made Harry's throat tight - made the unconscious keening stop. Golden amber eyes stared at Harry.

"A-a little bit," he admitted. Talking helped produce saliva, and it loosened his throat enough that he rushed through his next words. "Remus, what are you doing here? What am _I_ doing here? Where am I? Snape, he-" His voice choked with emotions he didn't realize he was holding back. Remus started to move back, but Harry frantically reached out and grabbed his sleeve. 'Wait! Don't leave me!'

"I'll be just a second, Harry. I have to make sure you're alright…" As if he could read the panic in his eyes, the werewolf softened. He gently rubbed Harry's cold fingers with his warm palm. 'This has to be real!' Harry's heart screamed. "I'm not leaving, cub." The words soothed Harry better than any calming potion could have. He loosened his grip, watching with wary eyes as Remus took a step back and drew his wand. For just a second, Harry remembered the cell and the chains, and he panicked. A flick and a muttered healing spell, and Harry felt his stinging numbness give way to a soft tingling before disappearing altogether; his nerves calmed again and he sagged boneless against his pillows.

'This is real. This has to be real…' Before he could even mutter his thanks, Remus was back, filling the empty space on the bed beside him.

The werewolf reached over as if planning to run his hand through Harry's hair, but as soon as Harry tensed, Remus pulled back sharply. Amber met green, but there were no questions. No answers. Not a single spoken word. Instantly, he regretted not letting Remus touch him. He was too confused and too vulnerable, and he tried to explain.

Before the first syllables could pass his cracked lips, Remus cut him off – a sad smile, one that didn't reach his sorrow-filled amber eyes, on his features. Harry felt the ease settle in again. Remus wasn't going to touch him; he understood.

His eyes were shimmering when he spoke, but Remus finally answered his questions. "I had to get you back, Harry. I had to find you, I had to know…" He let the rest go unspoken, too choked up to manage to voice the rest. He looked down and away from Harry, but the teen could still see the deep sadness in the man's eyes.

"How?" Even that one word irritated his throat, and he wished desperately for a glass of water, or even for a Death Eater to come in and drag him down a hall and into a bare cell and blast cold water over him. At least he could lick the dirty, quenching, painful, freezing drops off his skin then. The sound of shifting drew his attention back to the conversation, stilted as it was.

"Severus." Remus chuckled, watching as Harry's eyes narrowed. The werewolf noticed something missing then and frowned, looking to the side table and grabbing the frames settled there. He gingerly slid them on Harry's face, letting him adjust. "Professor Snape…" he struggled with the right word, "_assisted_ me."

Harry looked around the room, taking in his surroundings as he visibly searched for signs of the Death Eater in question. The light he had seen at the end of the bed came from a small fireplace built into the wall; it was too small for someone to floo in, but the light it provided was warm and relaxing. There was no window in the room, just bare blush-coloured stone. A cheap looking wardrobe was shoved in a corner, and a table with shelves under it were the only pieces of furniture besides a stout little chair Remus was resting one of his feet on. His mind ran around frantically, adding up the dimensions of the room, the bare furnishings, and the large stock of potions under the table to reach a single conclusion. 'Safehouse.'

He let his eyes fall to where he had knocked the glass thing from before Remus had come in onto the floor. Silver glitter and water still clung to the jagged edges of the broken glass.

Remus followed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Harry. It's easily fixed. _Repairo_." The glass and glitter jumped from the floor and onto the nightstand as if nothing had happened. A dizzying whirl of tiny pieces and it was over - a small waterglobe sitting innocently on the table.

Harry watched the distracting shine for just a moment longer before looking back up. It was so simple to fix, so easy… his mind wandered over his own broken self before wrenching itself back to the present. He felt a surge of self-dislike at his inability to focus; however, when he glanced back at Remus, his breath caught at the man's small smile. He pushed away the emotions quickly. "Where is he?" he asked in a voice much steadier than he felt.

"He's not here, cub. He's at Hogwarts still… it's just us," he paused and Harry could see the sadness in his eyes darken to something much worse before he continued, "for a while at least."

Harry's eyes dropped closed, exhaustion settling over him. He swallowed, trying to fight off the impending sleep, afraid that when he woke up, it would all be a dream. 'This has to be real…' If he opened his eyes and this had all been a dream, he would kill someone. Most likely himself. 'Please don't let this be a dream,' he thought. He subconsciously clenched his fists, pressing blunt nails into his flesh and relishing in the sharp pain.

Remus leaned back against the headboard, staring down at his cub beside him. He watched the too-thin chest rise and fall, still in utter shock that his Harry, the boy he considered his son in many ways, was here beside him. He longed to reach over and touch his cheek, his hair, his chest, just to prove that this was real. But he had seen that look in Harry's eyes; he had seen the marks on Harry's beaten and broken body with his own eyes earlier. He shut them, fighting back the anger of the beast within him. It rumbled against his chest, an almost physical presence – immense, furry, and angry. 'What did they do to you, cub?'

He was drawn from his thoughts when Harry spoke again in a sleepy tone. "Don't… don't leave me." There was a plea in the voice, a soft, almost unheard, fear.

"I won't." Remus had never meant anything more in his life. He tore his eyes from the boy's breathing and leaned over to the fixed waterglobe on the bedside table. He let his shaking fingers run down the side of the cold glass before retrieving it, pulling it into his lap with a cupped hand. The movement stirred the glitter, but Remus paid it no attention as he turned the Muggle device upside down and twisted the knob.

Harry jumped when music filled the air, too tired to open his eyes and acknowledge the source. The rest of his nerves that had hung on him even after the calming spell seemed to disappear. The magic right below the surface of his skin hummed happily, and he sighed contently, trying to move his head back in the direction Remus was sitting without opening his eyes. He asked the question resting on the tip of his tongue. "What was that music earlier?"

Remus lifted his eyebrows in surprise, not looking away from the dancing glitter inside the crystal ball. "I was hoping not to wake you," he nearly whispered. It didn't seem like a sufficient enough answer, so he continued quietly. "I was playing while waiting for you to wake. It passed the time and filled the silence." Harry hummed appreciatively, right on the edge of sleep. The soft sounds of the snow globe filled the empty room, both enjoying the companionable music.

The music box tinkled the last note of its melody, and the room faded into an uneasy silence. Harry stirred, swallowing a groan as he shifted uncomfortably. The only sounds left in the room were the quiet ones of his and Remus's breathing. It wasn't enough. After years of hearing nothing, quiet left him uneasy. Even screaming would have been more comfortable to him. He thought of the soft music from earlier and the feeling of peace it brought with it. "Play for me?"

Remus didn't speak for a moment. He watched his bruised cub's face with a thoughtful expression before standing up. "Of course."

* * *

December 12th, 1998 ~ Order of the Phoenix Safehouse Number 3, Scotland

"Harry's not even fully healed yet, Severus! And _Headmaster_ Dumbledore thinks it's safe to move him?" Lupin hissed, eyes glowing brightly with anger. He turned on the Potions Master behind him and set a glare that would have shaken even the bravest Auror.

The potions master gripped the edge of the kitchen bar carefully, unaffected by the ex-Defense teacher's icy look. He knew that Remus wasn't angry with _him_, but apparently, he had never heard of the "don't-shoot-the-messenger" rule or even paused to consider all Severus had done for him recently. Once again, he was on the receiving end of a bipolar werewolf attack; it was starting to become old hat.

Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. He oddly felt like he was dealing with Longbottom back at Hogwarts. "Remus, I am only relaying a message. You and I both know it's not safe for Potter out there, but we are _required_ to do what he says." He sneered at the thought and straightened, listening for the telltale recorder music in the background.

Satisfied Potter was still distracted, he continued, lowering his voice and speaking down to Remus as if he really were a child in one of his potions classes. "Safehouse Number 5 will be ready for us by the New Year, and we have no choice but to follow his orders."

Seething, Remus turned from the other man and glared at the sink as he poured the rest of his coffee down the drain. He watched the soft brown liquid swirl downwards, discolouring the ivory porcelain as it went. 'Of course Severus was right! Now that everyone who could have a rightful claim to Harry is gone, the boy is still technically under Dumbledore's _protection_. The older man has both of us in a corner when it comes to his orders.'

"No," he muttered, almost too quietly for Snape to hear. "No, we don't, do we?" He shifted around to stare at his old classmate, already seeing his mirrored anger forming in the black eyes. He dropped his voice again, just barely audible over the other room's melody. "He's got us just where he wants us."

Snape knew whom the werewolf was talking about. He sneered again, grip tightening on his hold of the marble bar. Though he agreed with what Remus was saying (surprise surprise) he knew it wasn't safe to speak of it here. 'The old man has too many eyes and ears…' They consistently checked the house for bugs whenever Dumbledore visited, but there was always a chance the Headmaster had managed to slip something by their detection spells. He looked up from his white knuckles and let his indifferent mask fall back into place. "You shouldn't speak of things like that here-"

Remus slammed his cup on the table, only a little surprised when the sturdy ceramic cracked. "He's got us right where he wants us, and he's going to use Harry again! After all he's been through-"

"Lupin." Snape warned, eyes narrowing in a sneer.

The werewolf continued, not even paying attention to what the other was saying. "-after everything that he's _put_ him through, he's going to continue to use him like he's- like he's some sort of weapon!" Remus flung his arms in the air, letting his frustration out. "He's just a child, Severus! He's just a boy and-"

"_Lupin_!" The hissed remark gave way to silence as the properly chastised Remus turned back to the sink. Snape took the moment to run his hand over his burning neck, only slightly startled when the maniacal chuckle from the werewolf reached him. He rolled his eyes again. 'Remind me again why I always seem to find the craziest of all the magical creatures to stay around?' "Control yourself-"

"Remus?"

Snape tried in vain to keep himself from rolling his eyes, but as he took in the lovely ceiling above him, he couldn't keep from sighing aloud. 'Wonderful…' He tugged at his collar and turned evenly to face his student. Harry seemed surprised to see his teacher standing in his kitchen. 'Dense as always, Potter?'

Remus quickly dropped the broken cup in the sink and turned his attention to Harry. Snape crossed the kitchen and stood in front of the boy, trying to assess what he could from him. Harry was healing well, at least physically; already his bruises and cuts were fading after just the few days he had been there.

The boy trembled lightly as the Potions Master continued his analytical perusal, and Snape had to resist the urge to sigh, sneer, or do something else incredibly telling. "I take it you are feeling better Mr. Potter?"

Bright green eyes sharpened as Harry shifted the majority of his confused gaze onto Snape. "Yes," he whispered – voice still weak and scratchy after a week. Hesitantly, the boy stepped further into the room and stood a few steps away from Lupin, still facing Snape. "Professor, I-I never got the chance to thank you for your hel-"

"Nevermind, Potter," Snape said abruptly, cutting the boy off quickly before he could finish his sentence. The teen flinched lightly, but never wavered from his spot. Snape felt an indiscernible emotion build at the base of his ribs and he took a deep breath through his nose to keep his throat from closing up. "We have more important things to discuss."

Lupin shot him a sharp glare at this, but Snape mentally brushed it off and kept his coal dark eyes on the teen in front of him. "The Headmaster is unconvinced of your well-being here and has ordered you to be moved to a safehouse closer to London within the month." The boy's eyes had widened at that, and Snape noticed the subtle tension that wound the teen's shoulders as tight as a bowstring. Relaxing slightly in an effort to keep the boy from bolting, he continued smoothly, "Both Lupin and I disagree with this and were discussing the ramifications of various actions before you entered."

Lupin was still shooting death glares at his head in-between soft glances at Potter, and Snape waited patiently to see who would speak next. Unsurprisingly, it was the werewolf.

"Harry," Lupin said quickly, a plea hidden in the tone, "I refuse to let that _man_ take you away from me again and mold you into a disposable weapon for himself." The last part was half-snarl and Snape could see the lines of tension running down the other man's arms that forcefully restrained him from stepping forward and swaddling the Potter teen in an embrace.

Potter stared at Lupin with wide eyes that looked eerily calm on the surface and Snape mentally cursed the Dark Lord again for what he had done to the boy.

"Then…" the boy licked his lips nervously as he spoke up. "I know you two have been planning something. Even though you try to hide it, I can see the remnants of your spells and know you've been working on something. An alternative."

Snape filed the phrasing of the boy's statement away for later consideration. Especially the line 'see the remnants of your spells.'

Deciding to induce a power play, Snape sat: a gliding motion that easily removed his height as a presence in the room. It was a difficult thing for Snape to willingly do, and it caused his neck to start burning and itching again, but it was necessary under the circumstances. "It is true that Lupin has been adamant in his vocalizations of his wishes to take you away from here," he conceded to the teen, "however, many of his plans are ill thought out and would require more than what we have at the moment to implement."

Stepping forward to sit down himself, and prompting Lupin to do the same, Potter caught Snape's eyes with his own. "What are we missing?" His voice trembled, but Snape had to grudgingly give the boy his Gryffindor credit to be willing to stand up to the Headmaster in his current malnourished and weakened state.

Apparently, Lupin was thinking the same thing. "Harry," the werewolf started, "before you know anything else, you need to know just how dangerous it's going to be for us to pull this off. We're going to be trying to hoodwink the man who has been acknowledged as the strongest wizard of our time. It won't be easy, and… if he finds out what we've done, the consequences may be worse than anything you would imagine him doing."

A spark of fire lit Potter's eyes and they suddenly blazed. "Worse than what I would imagine him doing? I _doubt_ that_._" It came out in a near hiss and Lupin recoiled only slightly before leaning forward again, mouth beginning to open. Harry forcefully cut him off. "No. I know how powerful Dumbledore is. More than most. He was the one that helped rid me of Voldemort's essence in my head during the Department of Mysteries raid after all." His voice was strong throughout his small speech, but it began to waver at the end as so much talking began to wear on him. His eyes lost the passionate fire from the start of the speech, but retained their determined tint.

"No…I acknowledge it will be incredibly difficult, exceedingly ridiculous, and entirely satisfying if pulled off." Letting out a pained exhale, he levered himself up out of the hard wooden seat. Lupin stood quickly to offer assistance. Bright green eyes captured Snape again.

"Professor, you of all people know what I went through - at least in part. You also were the one to get me out of there. I trust you to use the same Slytherin cunning to get me the _hell away._"

Snape watched as Potter stood waiting for his reply. His body was swaying lightly, sweat beading on his brow, but his eyes continued to pound against the older man's sensibilities. Slowly, Snape nodded. "The main factor in our plans was your condition. I trust you understand your limits more than anyone else here, but know this," he voiced nearly hissed out the last words and he could feel the burn in his neck both intensify and settle "if you plan to escape Dumbledore's reach, you can't just leave London, or England, or even the British Isles. If you really want to escape, you should leave Europe altogether."

Harry relaxed slightly and allowed Lupin to grab his elbow as his swaying got more pronounced. "Well then, you'll just have to brew some excellent potions so that I may recover all the faster."

Snape couldn't help the snort as he watched Lupin carry the brat out of the room. Casually he noticed the recorder Lupin had given him a few days ago was clenched tightly in his white-knuckled grip. 'It seems I'll have to get back to experimenting…'

* * *

December 27, 1998 ~ Order of the Phoenix Safehouse Number 3, Scotland

It had been decided they would head East.

The current plan was to take a short portkey to Belgium before grabbing Muggle transportation further East through Germany and Poland. Another portkey had been set up for them in Poland that would drop them North in Latvia where they would have a floo connection open for them to travel into Asia and would land them in Uzbekistan before they would take a plane to Taiwan and then a final portkey backwards and into China.

Along with this convoluted route, Snape would have several of the vampires who had helped Harry escape lay false trails through France, Bulgaria, Norway, Switzerland, Egypt, and Russia along with various other small countries. The first portkeys had all be set to go off at the same moment in time from the Safehouse, but after that, everyone had an individual plan to follow and their own timelines. It had been carefully crafted so that Harry and Remus were nether the first to reach a destination, nor the last.

When Harry had first heard the plan, he had been in shock at the amount of thought and pre-planning that the Potion's Master had put into it. Then horrified when the man took to teaching him everything he thought Harry would need to know.

Now though, it had finally come for the duo to leave.

Harry grimaced as Remus pulled the thick woolen coat he was wearing more snuggly across his thin shoulders. Despite the marvelous potions Snape had made for him – it seems he took Harry's earlier warning to heart – Harry was still thinner then both men would like.

Smiling up at the man he now considered his second godfather, Harry leaned forward to rest his head against Remus's soft cotton shirt. It was the closest he had come to initiating a hug, but neither Lupin nor Snape had asked for more. He chuckled softly at the thought as he felt Remus gently rub his back with one hand while his other directed the various vampires in the room to where they needed to go.

"Ready to go, cub?" the man asked after a moment.

Harry pulled back sadly but nodded. "Yes," he said. Remus nodded and then hurried over to have a quick chat with one of the new vampires that had just shadowed in. Harry didn't know what they called it, but he called it shadowing seeing as how they seemed to just appear out the shadows like ninja.

He processed that thought and then mentally laughed, wondering if there was any correlation between vampires and ninja. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape appear in the doorway.

Seeing Harry looking at him, Snape raised an eyebrow and stalked over. "I take it you have everything you need?" A pointed glance was given and Harry, smiling slightly, used his fingers to pull his necklace out from his shirt. On it hung several tiny charms. A small trunk, violin, and recorder were actually all Christmas presents from his guardians that they had shrunk for him to carry. The necklace also had five crystal pendants of various shapes that had been charmed to help prevent people from cursing him, kidnapping him, knocking him unconscious, transporting him unwillingly, and from peering into his mind. Snape had then charmed the entire necklace chain itself as an emergency portkey that would take Harry to a house in Spain when the password was said.

Snape's eyes softened as he saw the small violin that hung from the chain. He had been the one to give the instrument to Harry, and the teen had been overwhelmed to receive such a gift. Snape had also given Harry a set of books that would teach him the basics of how to play the instrument and a few cds of Snape himself playing. "I'll send you more discs when you get settled," he said as he reached a hand forward to the boy's head.

Harry leaned cautiously into the hand that brushed back his bangs, constantly amazed as he saw the concern and care in Snape's eyes. "I would appreciate that, sir." He ducked his head and blushed lightly.

Snape's hand left his hair, and Harry heard the man walk away as a chime sounded further in the house. It was the five-minute warning charm for the portkeyers.

Remus walked up beside him as the last chimes died away. "It's time to leave, Harry."

Harry's head came up and he felt his breath begin to come in short gasps. "Do we r-really-" he stopped as he felt the words choke in his throat. He knew Remus would be confused. Harry had been all for the plan, and now here he was, nearly cringing at the thought of leaving. Feelings overwhelmed him and he felt his magic being to stir under his skin. It made him feel hot even though his hands and face were cold in the chill air of the living room.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, and it frustrated him.

A cool hand was laid on his forehead and Harry flinched back instinctively. "Shhh," Remus whispered. Harry looked up at the werewolf with wide, desperate eyes. Calm amber eyes stared back at him. Remus must have made some signal Harry missed with as engrossed as he was in watching his godfather's eyes dilate in the light.

Suddenly Remus was pushing a potion bottle against his lips. Harry fought for a moment before he caught sight of Snape just behind Remus's shoulder. Harry swallowed, knowing anything Snape made was safe for him. A shudder passed through him, and he felt his emotions settle down behind a fuzzy screen.

"A calming drought, cub," Remus said as his hand left Harry's forehead. The werewolf's head turned to look at Snape as Harry slowly came down from his panic.

"Is this normal, Snape?" he heard his pseudo-godfather ask as Harry stared at their feet on the clean floorboards. Absently he began tracing the lines of the floorboards as he listened. A keening sound was trapped in the back of his throat and Harry almost desperately chased the floorboard lines around their shoes with his eyes in an effort to let the calming drought work.

"Yes; although I thought he would have waited until China to go through this. Or at least Latvia." A soft sigh. "He's still suffering from what happened. So far, he hasn't had time to actually think on anything and realize what's happened, and we've been keeping him busy these last few days so that he didn't have the energy to think."

Remus's hand was placed back on his forehead, but Harry didn't flinch this time, too wrapped up in the potion that Harry was just now suspecting was extra-strength.

"How long will the potion last?"

"At least until you enter Poland." A soft clink and Harry watched as light reflections were cast upon the floor. Breathtaking patterns of shining light and diluted shadow. "If he absolutely needs it, here's another two doses, but try not to give them to him unless you have to. I don't want to risk him overdosing or developing a dependency."

"I understand." Remus said as he put the vials away. "Snape…thank you for all this. From both of us."

Harry's head snapped up at this and he felt his emotions run though him, pushing against the drought that tried to keep him calm. "Professor." Both men's heads snapped to him and Harry felt his knees begin to go weak. "I know you don't want it, professor, but I feel like I have to tell you." More of the confusing roll of emotions was pushing against him and he struggled to organize his thoughts as another chime sounded deep in the house, signaling the last warning for the portkeyers. "Professor Snape, I know you came for me against orders, I know you used to hate me, but also, professor, if I trust Remus with my life, I could think of no one but you with whom I would rather entrust my soul."

A tug behind his navel signaled the grip of the portkey taking hold and Harry barely had time to see the expression of astonishment, horror, and bewildered affection pass across his former professor's face before he was whisked away in a violent whirlwind with Remus beside him.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are love!

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


	11. No Relation

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes: **Please note date markers; we have taken a short trip back in time to 1975 and the Marauder Era!

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

_**Revised February 2013.**_

* * *

**No Relation**

* * *

June 29th, 1974 ~ _Heaven_, London

On the bad side of town, in one of the seediest alleyways he could find, was a biker bar by the name of _Heaven_. While it didn't look like much to most people- just a rundown building with big black bikes parked in lines all around it and loud rock music pouring out over the sound of pool and drunks- it never seemed like more of an appropriate title to 16-year-old, recent runaway Sirius Black.

The Black heir had run away just a few days ago with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, his suitcase dragging behind him, and a solid, foolproof plan. Not that any of that had lasted long now that he thought about it. He was on his last three cigarettes, most of the things he had piled into his suitcase at the last moment had been ditched along the way, and he was out in the streets with no idea where he was heading next.

At first, his plan had been to stay with James and his parents. It seemed solid at first thought- after all, they had the space, and both Mr. and Mrs. Potter had practically adopted him as their second son shortly after his first year. 'Anytime you need or want to, Sirius, you are welcome here!' had been the exact words. What he didn't know was that 'anytime' meant 98% of the time, when they had the space open and weren't crammed to the rim with loud and obnoxious, uninvited in-laws like they had been this week.

Of all times.

There was always the backup plan- even if he hated what his pureblood family stood for in every sense, he _was_ a Black. He knew there was always that slim chance that the plan would fall through, and he'd have to resort to another method of surviving over the next three months until school started. That's where his boyfriend had come in...

...but when he had arrived at the Lupin house, it was pretty obvious they had no room for him. It was only a two bedroom house - if you could call it that. Remus's room left the young werewolf barely enough space to move. They had offered him the couch, and Remus had pleaded for him to stay off the streets and safe; after one night, though, he had taken his leave.

And what a night it had been. Sirius smirked, thinking back to the hushed whispers and sighs underneath the trees and the morning after when he had woken up from the most wonderful night of sleep he'd probably ever get again. Soft brown eyes laced with amber blurred his vision only for another moment, and he shifted his luggage from one hand to the other, trying to think of what he had done after that.

Oh right. Plan C.

That particular plan had lasted a few steps into London, when Sirius had realized he didn't have the first clue as to where Peter even remotely lived.

So, after all of that, here Sirius was, in _Heaven_. The irony was not lost on him, though the humor had been drained from the situation ages ago. He told himself that when he looked back on this moment the next school year and laughed about it with James and the other Marauders, it would be well worth it.

He passed by all the fancy bikes littered outside, leaving appreciative looks and his suitcase behind him. He wasn't worried about anyone trying to steal his suitcase; if anything, he was more vaguely worried about the opposite happening.

The loud noises of pool table conversations didn't stop when Sirius made his entrance- no one stopped talking to turn and stare like in the Muggle movies he had seen. As a matter of fact, no one seemed to notice his entrance or even give a damn about the long haired teen being out past any sane teenager's curfew.

Unlit cigarette still dangling from his lips, Sirius sighed and made his way to the bar. With any luck, he could get drunk off his arse and forget the situation that he had gotten himself into.

* * *

June 30th, 1974 ~ _Heaven_, London

When Sirius woke up the next morning, he felt like he'd been hit with a freight train. He didn't have a clue where he was, and his splitting headache didn't give him much room to think about it. His mouth tasted like nasty – like cotton balls and wet dog. Running a shaky hand through his sleep-tangled hair, he groaned and tried to focus on the hopefully singular and not quadruple light above his head.

There was the roar of a bike outside somewhere, making his skull feel like it was cracking. His tired and hung-over mind recovered enough to rub two brain cells together. _'Heaven_, I'm in _Heaven_.' He scrambled to reign in the thought and onslaught of memories that rushed forward with it, too tired to find the humor in the irony of where he crashed.

He plopped a pillow came over his face and he groaned again. A long, low-pitched, near whine that would have hurt more if he thought about it. He slowly began to play the patchy memories of last night back through his head.

..::...::...::..

_It was the jacket's fault. Really, how was he supposed to keep his mouth shut when he saw the thing _right there_. The thing looked like it had seen way too much; it used to be solid black leather, he could tell, but the thing was faded and cracked now. The letters, stitched in a big block-lettered font across his shoulder blades, read "BLACK"._

_Sirius slid into the open seat beside "BLACK" and nodded his head toward his fellow bar goer with a smirk. "Nice jacket." The comment came out with a little sarcasm, but he didn't mean it as a greeting or an insult; it was just filling up space. _

_Moony always said that he had to keep talking at all times, else he'd die. Maybe it was true, since as far as Sirius could remember, he hadn't stopped to enjoy silence once in his entire life. _

_The grunt Sirius got in response startled him a bit; he honestly hadn't been expecting any reply at all. A quick glance at the man told him that the grunt wasn't any sort of conversation starter either, so he turned back to the task at hand: getting smashed out of his mind. He leaned across the counter's cold surface and shouted down at the bartender, who seemed to find the other end of the bar much more interesting. "Hey, can't a guy get a drink?"_

"_Aren't you a little young to be in here, kid?" _

"_BLACK" shifted on the bar stool to look at him, and Sirius got a good look at the guy behind the jacket this time. He had long black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail down his back, but it was already starting to grey with age. His dark skin seemed to be the only thing keeping him from looking like an older mirror image of himself in forty years._

"_Aren't you a little old to be worrying about someone else's kid, grandpa?" He shot back before he even realized what he was saying; for a split second, Sirius panicked as mental images of bar fights with flying chairs ran through his mind. But it never happened... not a single person seemed to shift from their spots or even look up to notice that the other was talking._

_A warm and loud laugh filled the air, easing Sirius's nerves even as his fast pulse continued to wash over him. He winced as a hard hand slammed down on his shoulder, but even in his confused state he could recognize the gesture as a friendly smack. "I like you, kid." The man turned toward the bartender and nodded his head toward the wizard. "His drinks are on me, Jim. What's your name?"_

_Sirius watched the barkeep pour a shot of whiskey with one eye then thanked him as Jim placed it in front of him. For a long moment, he stared at the liquid, comparing the warm color mentally with Moony's eyes before he remembered what the other had asked. "Black." He picked up the cool glass with one hand and lifted it a little toward the man beside him. "You'll excuse me for not sharing more, but with the just meeting you and all..."_

_The man surprised him again, snorting loudly as he toasted his own glass. "Must run in the family."_

..::...::...::..

The guy had never asked anything too personal, at least not up front. _Shit_, how many drinks had it taken before he had opened up completely? Too many apparently. He threw the pillow across the room in agitation. It was making him claustrophobic anyway.

Hangovers in _Heaven_ felt the same as they always had, Sirius realized, leaning back against the too warm pad underneath him. He had spilled about being thrown out of his house, about his friends not having room for him, and every little thing in between. Sirius frowned. They had still talking for near an hour after all that... What had they talked about?

..::...::...::..

"_You're a wizard, right?"_

_Anyone that had gotten too close to the two of them and their suddenly private section of the bar had been scared off with glares and rude gestures. Sirius wasn't too sure why he wasn't surprised that Grandpa, as he had been dubbed by that point, had figured it out; he must have been really drunk if blowing his secret like this didn't seem all that big of a deal._

"_You too?" It made sense that he might have run into another one here, in this seedy place. There were plenty of wizards around these parts, so the chances were always really good..._

"_Nah," Grandpa took another drink and shook his head, pony-tail swishing a bit with the action. "Nah, I'm a Quileute."_

_Sirius nearly spilled his drink laughing. "A Qu- a Qui..." His slurred speech couldn't quite make out the unfamiliar word, especially around his snickering. "A what?"_

_Grandpa snorted at his humor. "A Quileute. What you people around here," he gestured to the Muggle inhabitants of the bar with the drink in his hand, careful not to spill the amber liquid, "call a shape shifter." He paused long enough to take a drink, then looked back at the boy. "I smelled you when you came in..."_

"_Like a werewolf." He blurted out, fascinated even through his tipsy haze. Hadn't Moony mentioned at some point that he could smell strong magic? Yeah, he was pretty sure-_

"_Exactly like that. That's what the people back home call us..." _

_Sirius leaned back, wavering slightly when the room tipped around him. Was this guy for real? Grandpa met his gaze evenly as if this was just talking about the weather, acting like he talked about this shit every day. And maybe he did... _

"_You aren't joking? You're serious?" He stopped and motioned to his chest with his nearly empty glass, smile slowly fading as he let the joke settle in. "No, wait. I'm Sirius." _

_Grandpa, who obviously missed the joke, narrowed his eyes, looking suddenly more grave than he had just moments earlier talking about magic creatures and wizards. "Maybe you've had too much to drink." Sirius waved off the concern and ordered another drink on Grandpa's tab. The shifter didn't complain openly, but Sirius could see his thoughtful look out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time the entire night that he had looked suspicious of Sirius. "You know a werewolf?"_

_And Sirius, drunk out of his mind and too trusting for his own good, had spilled his guts. "Yeah, my b-" Sirius paused and licked his lips nervously before continuing. "my best friend is a werewolf. London kind, not..." He waved toward Grandpa, who chuckled at the unsaid 'whatever kind you are' that floated between them. Sirius silently sent an apology to his boyfriend. 'I love you, Remus, baby. Don't doubt it...' He would have just openly admitted to being gay, but he had a feeling that Grandpa here might have a heart attack if he knew that his little wizarding friend was a bender. Some places weren't as open about stuff like that as London was. "Hey, where _are_ you from?"_

_Grandpa snorted, looking off into the bar and its inhabitants with unseeing eyes and a mysterious smile. "All the way around the world from here, kid."_

_It was sometime later when Grandpa had taken him outside to show off his bike. After all, Sirius had begged and pleaded, it _was_ the nice thing to do. Sirius circled around the bike, eyes sparkling with the metallic gleam caught from the bar's porch lights._

_Sirius whistled, low and softly. It was a piece of work, to be sure; Sirius couldn't help but feel envious- he'd always wanted a bike like this. "You know, with a little work, you could make this baby fly..."_

"_Literally?" At Sirius's incredulous look, Grandpa laughed again, the warm and weirdly familiar noise filling the air around them. He offered his dark hand to Sirius. "Daniel Black. My friends call me Dan." There was something in the statement that told Sirius that Dan considered _him_ a friend now, and that he'd better call him Dan or suffer some unspoken consequences._

_The long-haired teen smirked and took the hand offered to him, "Sirius Black. No relation, of course."_

..::...::...::..

Sirius came out of the memory chuckling to himself, caught somewhere between his own parting joke and Grandpa's flying motorcycle. Honestly, who had ever heard of something as stupid as a flying motorcycle? He rolled his neck, wincing at the loud popping noise his sore neck gave. The memories were back fully now, as if the silent spell the hangover had placed had been lifted; his night with Grandpa Dan felt as real to him now as if it had happened... well, last night. If there was one thing he liked about his Black heritage, besides the stunning good looks of course, it was the ability to hold his liquor and still remember what had happened.

He pushed himself off the cot and quickly dug his hand into his pocket, remembering stuffing a scrap of paper in there sometime between flying motorcycles and last drinks. "Aha!" He exclaimed to himself, pulling the crumpled note out from his pants. It took him a few seconds, but he was able to smooth out the paper enough to read the drunken writing sketched in black across it:

_La Push, Washington._

Sirius's smile slowly widened as he traced the letters, mentally thanking his luck that Plan D was finally taking form. And it was going to be totally ace.

* * *

September 1st 1974 ~ Hogwarts Express, London

Teeth scraped down his boyfriend's pale neck, careful not to bite or leave marks, quickly followed with soft kisses and soft swipes of his tongue. The soft mewls and whimpers Remus was making only made the small compartment seem hotter to Sirius. "God, I've missed you, Moony." He trailed his mouth up his boyfriend's jaw, slanting it once again across Remus's mouth.

It didn't last long, though, and sooner than later Sirius could feel the soft push against his chest, signaling the end of their kiss. They both pulled away, panting heavily and with eyes glazed over; Sirius smirked at the soft color of his boyfriend's eyes, knowing that after all the whiskey he had drank over the summer, nothing could compare to that dark amber hue.

Remus's face flushed under his boyfriend's gaze, and he turned his face to the side in embarrassment. "You were so distracted with those other werewolves, I can't imagine why." He mumbled softly as he shifted against the uncomfortable seats. Six years riding on the Hogwarts Express, and the werewolf still wasn't used to the low-padding in the cushions.

He gasped lightly as Sirius caught his chin in those warm fingers, turning his face back around until amber met slate. "None of them were you, baby." The heated whisper dissolved, though, as Sirius settled back in his spot beside him. His hand never left Remus's thigh, even as his other drifted upward to rearranged himself in his dress pants rather rudely. Remus ran a cool hand down his face, embarrassed yet again, but said nothing as the other Gryffindor continued. "Besides that, Moony, they were much more interested in you."

"Why would they be interested in Moony, I wonder?"

Sirius and Remus jumped apart guiltily as the compartment door slid open loudly, and James Potter stuck his smirking face inside. The glare from his best friend didn't seem to bother him in the least as he slid into his spot across from the other Gryffindors. He didn't make a comment about their disheveled look, knowing full well what his friends had been up to just moments before. "You know, I only got one letter from you this summer, Padfoot. I was starting to get worried."

Sirius shrugged with one shoulder, giving his mate an apologetic look. "I was busy. There wasn't really much to say either-"

His boyfriend interrupted him. "You know he's not the writing type, Prongs." Remus covered, smiling softly in return to his boyfriend's mouthed 'thank you'; he hadn't received many letters himself during the summer, but he had forgiven Sirius the moment he had spotted him at Platform 9 ¾ that morning.

If James noticed the loving looks between the two he didn't mention it, merely shrugged himself as he glanced into the hallway. "Yeah, makes sense."

"Where's Lily?" Remus asked, as if just now noticing that the female Marauder wasn't present. Where James was, Lily wasn't far behind usually.

Whatever James was going to say was cut short with a wide-eyed shout from Sirius. "Oh for God's sake, don't tell Lily what I've been up to! She'll start on another lecture..."

Remus snorted. "Padfoot, you're such a pansy. That's just Lily's way of showing she cares for you..."

"Yeah, she'll care for me till I'm in the ground. Death by nagging..."

"Can we not change the subject to my lovely and wonderful girlfriend?" James cut in between the two arguing lovers with a smirk, obviously enjoying the show. Remus and Sirius had enough smarts to look contrite, and James shook his head, ignoring Sirius's muttered 'sit on it Prongs,' as he continued. "Why were they interested in Moony, Padfoot?"

Sirius frowned, eyes furring together as he remembered his chats with Dan and his family. "They were interested in how Remus changed. They can control when they change and all, so hearing about Moony's 'monthly problem'..." He used air quotes, snorting when his lover smacked him across the shoulder and joining James in a good laugh.

Remus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, settling back into the seat with a pout. He sighed deeply, thoughts centered on what his boyfriend was talking about. He glanced down as his lover's hand caressed his knee comfortingly, and he sighed again. "I wish I could meet them..."

"Well then, we will!" Sirius exclaimed as if it was a fact already set in stone. Remus's lips twitched into a smile at his boyfriend's simple-minded conviction. A conviction that could carry him through a prank meltdown in the Great Hall with a smile.

James leaned forward eagerly. "My Gran got pissed at us this summer, so I don't think her side of the family is coming back next summer." A sly look entered his brown eyes and he turned to Remus. "And since Sirius is still out a house, it's not like his bogue family will care if he goes back."

Sirius's fingers tightened on his boyfriend's knee, grasping in a wordless plea as the dark haired teen whirled to face his lover. "Totally. And they gave me an open invitation to come back whenever! It'd be boss if you two came with me next summer! Please, Remus?"

Bright amber eyes regarded his lover for a long moment. Remus didn't like leaving his father alone for too long in their small house, but he really wanted to go see these other werewolves as well. He had a brief fight with himself before his hand closed over Sirius's on his knee. "Of course I'll go. They sound very interesting."

Blue-grey eyes brightened and Remus released a squawk as his boyfriend slammed him into the seat with a shout. "Woo-hoo! Next summer is going to be the best summer ever!"

A squeak of springs from the other side of the compartment was the only warning before James joined the dogpile with a shout of his own. "Last one on bottom loses!"

And thus began their first brawl of the school year. And their first black eyes from where Prongs elbowed Padfoot, who slammed into Moony, who slammed into a doorknob with his head.

* * *

**A/N (Naoi):** This is the last flashback chapter we have planned, so everyone who hated them can celebrate. (Any mangling of slang can be blamed on me.)  
* Brownies and hugs to _fifespice_. For being there.

Reviews are love.

Ja,  
Caits and Naoi


	12. Chapter Six: Spoons

**Duskborn**

Co written by:  
Naoi & cait-the-fangirl

**Important Notes**: Bet you all thought this was never coming, huh? **All previous chapters have been revised as of Feb 2013!** I made a few major changes in addition to pumping up the wordcount and altering some major storyline plots, fair warning.

Starting now, Harry and Remus will be referred to by their new names within the story. These new names were chosen with meaning, and are more than easily given monikers to be dismissed in three chapters.

_See Prologue for list of warnings and disclaimer. _

* * *

**Chapter Six: Spoons**

* * *

September 4, 1999 ~ Beach, La Push, Washington

Bright verdant eyes watched as the waves of the Pacific Ocean continued their endless, pounding dance with the pebbled shore only a few feet away. An infinite dance of struggle, possession, and loss. The waves would sweep victoriously up the shore, claiming the land as their own, and then they would be pulled back into the main body of the ocean, leaving only faint fingers of ripples to grasp desperately at the shoreline.

Scalloped edges of the tide reached across the dark sand to kiss pale feet fleetingly before scrambling, dragging sand backwards, and being drawn back. The teen on the shore ran his fingers up his bare arms, tracing absent patterns.

An occasional spray would scatter cold droplets of water across his pale skin, leaving a glistening web across his arms and face. Errant black hair- streaked through with bold stripes of platinum blonde- wove around him with the breezes. A thin hand batted the strands away absently as they landed in his eyes and between his lips.

A steady magical pressure grew against his senses before the sharp crunch of gravel to his left announced the presence of one of the wolf boys; Nathaniel James Harrison leant backwards onto his hands in order to look up at the tall, muscular form beside him.

"Still staring at the sea, Nath?" Quil teased lightly.

"Of course," came the lazy answer. "It's more interesting than watching you lot _attempt_ to beat Billy Black at poker every weekend afternoon."

"Hey!" Quil exclaimed as he flopped down onto the ground, one hand flinging outwards to catch Nathaniel in the shoulder on its way down. "The old man totally cheats you know!"

Nathaniel chuckled and let his arms relax so that he wound up flat on his back. The sky above him mirrored the ocean in movement and energy. Hypnotically rolling and clashing and sweeping inwards over the land.

A lighter patch of sky vaguely shaped like a hippogriff captured his attention for a few moments before it was dispersed into nothingness by the ever-invading clouds.

Like Harry was.

Like Harry Potter _had been_.

Nathaniel dug his fingernails into the sand, relishing in some way the sharp feel of the grit against his skin.

"Looks like it's going to rain tonight." Quil's capricious statement broke Nathaniel from his thoughts, causing his hands to reflexively release their grip. He flexed them absently as he wiggled his back deeper into the ground. "Really?"

He could hear the smirk in Quil's voice as the older boy replied affirmatively. "Yup. See how the clouds look like they're chasing each other? And the movements the same, no matter how deep you look? That means the storm's pushing them to go faster and faster. It'll be here by dinner time probably."

Green eyes flickered to the other teen before focusing in on the movements of the clouds. Reaching out, he let his senses stretch outside himself as he became lost in the flow above him. If he sank deep enough, he could almost taste the approaching lightning on his tongue. It filled his mouth and arced across his fingers as he spread himself open. The edge of danger the storm carried swept across his skin like a knife's edge dancing delicately around him. It made him shiver, and he strained against invisible bonds to get that edge to dig deeper.

A sudden, vicious wave of water slammed hard into the rocky shore at Nathaniel's feet. He bolted upright, spluttering angrily, as a load of water and sand washed up into his pants and under his shirt. It ran thick viscous fingers over his thin form and sank into uncomfortable places. He continued to splutter as he scrabbled backwards, dragging more sand with him and into the waistband of his pants.

The spray from the next wave caught him in the mouth. The thick taste of salt water spread through his mouth and washed away any lingering taste of lightning. His skin now just felt cold, clammy, and gritty from the sand.

Quil was laughing, one arm around his sides and dark skin also streaming thin rivulets of water from the wave. "Oh man! You should have seen yourself!" He didn't seem to notice the salt water as he licked his lips and continued to roll around. "Y-You!"

Nathaniel hissed and kicked sand at him with one sand-filled pants leg. "Shut up," he ground out between closed teeth, trying to keep his tongue still so it wouldn't cause him to gag. "Wanker."

Dragging himself up, Nathaniel tried in vain to brush the sand off his soaking pants. Quil chuckled at him as he stood up gracefully. "Don't even bother. It won't come off until they're dry."

He laughed again as Nathaniel shot him a glare and stepped backwards from a new incoming wave. "I was supposed to come and bring you back for supper anyways," he said as he pulled at the smaller teen. "Mum wanted you in before the storm. Lightning can get pretty nasty out here on the shore."

Snarling at the amused look that still lingered in the other teen's eyes, Nathaniel made up his mind to make sure and dump as much wet sand into Quil's bed as soon as he could.

* * *

September 8, 1999 ~ Black Household, La Push, Washington

Rain was pounding on the roof like a drum when the phone started ringing at the Black household. The shouting match over who got the chicken next continued for a few moments before Jacob heard the phone ringing and shouted for the table at large to shut up.

Nathaniel took the moment to steal the chicken for himself from across the table, and scooped another serving onto his plate before shoving the nearly empty basket at Embry beside him. The quiet teen quickly took the basket with a smile and dumped the rest onto his own plate before the rest of the table recovered enough to figure out that the chicken was gone.

"Billy!" Quil the Elder called out from the kitchen doorway where he had answered the phone. "It's Charlie Swan on the phone for you. Sounds real upset."

A concerned expression plastered itself across Billy's face quickly. From what Nathaniel knew, Charlie Swan was a man who kept his cool in just about every situation. For the man to 'sound real upset,' something bad must have happened. The Black patriarch rolled himself back from the table and over to the phone with a practiced ease. With one hand on the phone, he used the other to shift himself and his wheelchair over the doorjamb and around the corner slightly for a semblance of privacy.

Curling a hand protectively around his plate, Nathaniel chewed mechanically on his chicken as he covertly watched Billy's face. Most of the table was attempting to do the same.

First was just the standard concern that had been pasted on Billy's face from the beginning, then dawning horror, followed by deep concern. Near the end, his face had softened and had taken on a sly yet pleading edge. Billy glanced at him quickly a few times with that look on his face, and Nathaniel thought he caught his own name amoung whatever Billy was saying now.

A few malicious thoughts wormed their way into his head: whispering about lies, manipulations, and the past. He ruthlessly shoved them back with a bite of mashed potatoes. Billy didn't have blue eyes, and he'd only been kind so far... another voice whispered that other people had seemed to be kind at first as well. Some green beans shoved that one back.

A quick glance around the table showed that no one else seemed to know what was going on, even the Elder Quil who had answered the phone. He shot a worried glance toward the calm gold eyes at the other end of the table. They wordlessly told him to be patient. So he settled down mulishly with another mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Embry nudged his knee under the table and shot him a questioning glance. Nathaniel shrugged in response and turned back to the table just in time to snatch a roll that Paul had been about to grab. The man snarled at him, but Nathaniel just winked and took a bite of the still-warm homemade bread. The others at the table who caught the interaction laughed.

Everyone quieted though as a pale Billy Black rolled back to his place. No one seemed to want to speak first to ask about the call and the ashen cast to Billy's face.

"What happened, Billy?" Harry Clearwater's voice shook slightly on the question. Nathaniel knew Harry and Billy often went fishing together with Charlie, and the Clearwater patriarch was obviously anxious to know anything.

Billy took a breath before clasping his hands in his lap. His eyes were dark as he gazed at the table. "There's been a situation. Charlie's daughter Isabella was in a plane hijacking incident down in Phoenix."

Several sharp breaths were drawn in around the table. "Is she okay, dad?" Jacob asked quickly.

"Physically she's not hurt too bad. From what Charlie was saying, she'd gotten shot in the arm. A clean through and through shot - nothing bad. She's gone into shock from it though, and she's in a coma back in Arizona. The doctors don't know when she's going to come out of it."

Nathaniel had no idea who this girl was. He had never met her or even heard of her really. He barely knew Charlie Swan. He had no reason to feel sorry for Isabella Swan; she was nothing more than a name to him. Yet some golden kernel of warmth in him begged Nathaniel to make sure she was alright.

He wrapped his thin fingers around some loose threads at the end of his flannel shirt sleeve, mind in a quandary. He tugged them sharply as he tried to figure out how to feel. How much compassion did normal people feel for strangers when they got hurt? Why couldn't he figure it out?

Billy continued. "Charlie is going to fly down to Arizona tomorrow on the first flight he can get. His ex-wife has agreed to let him stay with her for as long as it takes." Nathaniel could almost physically hear another end to that sentence it reverberated so loudly inside him, _until she dies_. His stomach clenched again, and he pushed at his dinner plate.

"He doesn't know how long he'll be gone, and normally he would have let his house just be left to fall apart." He turned his heavy gaze to Nathaniel now. "I know it's a little odd, but Charlie has agreed to let the two of you move in and house-sit for him. I know you had started to enroll Nathaniel into Forks High on Monday."

Nathaniel jerked a little in his seat and gave another harsh tug to the loose threads he had twisted in his grasp. They gave way under his rough treatment. Not quite knowing what to do in a situation like this, he turned to Romulus. Didn't people just leave their houses alone unless they were going to be gone for a very long time? Did that mean that Charlie Swan knew more than he was saying? His earlier thought echoed through his head again, and the suspicions from before returned.

Golden eyes met his and the older man smiled gently at him. "That's very kind of him, Billy. Especially since he offered to let us move in during such a stressful time." Romulus's tone was gentle yet firm and soothed Nathaniel's raw nerves. "Neither Nathaniel nor I will turn down the offer." He smiled then, and a mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. "As much as we love rooming with the Ateara, Quil's snoring can get to be a little much sometimes."

"Hey!" Both Ateara men called out, neither one too sure who was being insulted.

Nathaniel grasped at the opening and shoved his confused thoughts away to be dealt with later. He laughed, "It's true! And this guy always has the radio on until midnight pretending he can sing along!" He nudged the teen to his left, provoking a squawk.

"I do not, Nath!" Quil whined, drawing out Nathaniel's name in a truly pitiful way.

"Yes, you do, son." Quil the Elder joined in - happy he wasn't being teased anymore. "And it's not like you have an amazing singing voice."

The table laughed as Quil tried to defend himself, proclaiming he could have won America Idol if he wanted to.

"So when were you planning on moving in then?" Embry asked quietly once Quil had lapsed into a pouting silence once again.

Romulus and Nathaniel looked at one another, conversing quickly thought body language. "Probably Friday," Romulus said eventually. It was soon, only two days, but it would them enough time to gather their stuff. The quicker they moved into the new place, the quicker Nathaniel could learn it and settle down. He _hated_ moving to new places, hated waking up in strange beds with strange sheets and ceilings.

Nathaniel quickly turned wide eyes to Jacob. "You'll help us move in, right?" Jacob shoved himself backwards in his chair and tried to look away, hiding slightly behind Seth. In response, Nathaniel leaned forward slightly and tilted his head. "You won't make me and Uncle Rom carry all that stuff by ourselves... will you?" He tried to pout slightly as he continued to look pleadingly at Jacob.

A few useless futile glances to Paul and Sam, and Jacob caved. "Yea," he sighed, "I'll help." When Quil snickered at him, he amended his statement. "And so will Quil, Seth, and Embry."

Quil sputtered a bit but couldn't come up with a fast enough defense before Sam hit him on the back of the head. Embry laughed at his misfortune before chiming in. "I'll be happy to help, Nath." Seth also grinned at Nathaniel from his spot beside Paul.

"Well," Harry Clearwater started, "I don't know about the young ones, but this is about as much news as I want to handle in any one day." Knees creaking with the movement, he pushed his chair back and stood. A somber mood fell over the table again.

"Same here, Billy." Quil the Elder said. "I think I'll head home myself."

Obligingly for once, the rain outside dulled to a light sprinkle. Taking it as a sign, the rest of the table stood as well to make their way out to their respective houses.

* * *

**A/N**: Welcome back onboard for what hopes to be a dazzling ride! In addition to the story, the community on Dreamwidth is also back up and running at full steam ahead. Check by there for plot development details, timelines, character sketches, and more!

This chapter is brought to you as a present for the lovely Caits! We're living in different states now, and this is my gift to her: the story born of our love, crack-headed-ness, and the support of all of you darling readers.

If you have a moment, please leave a review. I want to make this a super special day for her!

Ja,  
Naoi and Caits


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